


Such Great Heights

by caesar



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe without the Titans, Canon Universe without the walls, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fist Fights, Gangs, Ganster!Levi, Good Parent Grisha Yeager, Love Triangle, Minor Violence, Occasional violence, Princess!Historia, Violence, more tags may be added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesar/pseuds/caesar
Summary: She’s a runaway princess working at an orphanage to hide from the crown. He’s the head of the most notorious gang in the city. Their paths cross on one fateful night, and they are drawn back to one another after that like moths to a flame.





	1. runaway

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends! i’m very excited to begin this new journey with you guys on this fic, which is heavily inspired by peaky blinders. some elements will be heavily taken from that show, others will be taken from canon snk, and the rest will be my own doing.
> 
>  **WARNING:** this first chapter has non-con notes/essence of sexual assault as far as dialogue and some description, but nothing explicit. one you get to the first line break then it’s safe from there. this should be the only chapter that this occurs in, but any warnings will be added in these before-chapter notes if there’s any at all.

Historia knew that running away from her role as princess was dangerous. She’s a wanted girl, but wanted for all the reasons opposite those of her captors, a reward on her head solely for her name. She hates the crown that sits on her head and the weight of the kingdom that falls on her shoulders once her father dies or is murdered. She was fully aware of the consequences of her running from her duty as the future queen.

 

However, she didn’t realize that when she’s caught, that she would be blindfolded and gagged like an animal, freshly caught and waiting to be skinned.

 

The rope rubs her wrists and ankles uncomfortably, the skin raw and burning from the threading. A rag is stuffed in her mouth, making saliva trail from the corner of her mouth, and another rag is tied around her head to block her vision. Her blouse is ripped open, exposing a plain bralette underneath, but her skirt that originally reached her ankles is torn to her knees. She can see blurry light from the bottom of the blindfold, but she can’t tell much of where she is. She’s left on the floor of wherever she is, the stone cold and damp, the air musky. She thinks she’s in a basement or cellar somewhere. She doesn’t know if days have passed or merely hours, but her stomach aches with hunger and her body is weak from fatigue.

 

She wonders if her father will know what came of her.

 

She thinks of the children at the orphanage and the other women who care for them. There’s a toddler who she’s especially taken by that flashes in her mind, and she feels her chest tighten at the thought that she may never tuck in that little boy again, may never hear his innocent laugh.

 

Steps echo in her ear as someone—multiple people—approach. Her heart races anxiously as she hears the familiar voices of her kidnappers. There’s two of them talking back and forth—a guttural voice and a more nasally one, both men.

 

“Such a pretty thing, really—“ the nasally voice remarks as they open the door.

 

“Too easy to snatch up. What if she’s of noble blood?” the guttural voice asks apprehensively.

 

The other man snorts. “That bitch? Don’t be an idiot.” Rough hands grab her ankles and yank her across the floor, making panic burst within her. She thrashes to no avail, large hands pulling her to her feet by her arms tied behind her back, making her stand unsteadily as she leans forward from the tight hold. She’s barely on her toes from what she imagines is a significant height difference. “Looks like an uglier version of the princess. It’ll be fun breaking this cunt in.”

 

“Shut the fuck up. We don’t get to touch the virgins first. Rules are rules!” The man with the lower voice shouts. Historia feels terror make her body act before she thinks, trying to buck from the man’s iron grip, his brutish hands bruising her forearms where he holds her up. Her head makes contact with something, and she feels something wet on the crown of her head. In the next second, she’s thrown against the wall, her front pressed against it as the man pushes her up against it, his large body to hers. She feels the heat radiating from his body and she can smell the foul cologne he’s wearing, and she feels him digging into her back. Her cheek scrapes against the brick of the walls and horror makes her freeze up as she feels hot breath in her ears and a wandering hand inch up her thigh under her skirt. “You’re a lucky bitch, aren’t you? We’d love to have fun with a pretty blonde like you. I’d keep you all to myself,” He cackles, and she screams even though it’s muffled with her gag.

 

“Don’t be a fucking cunt,” the other man spits, pulling the large man from Historia. She drops to the ground in a heap, tears welling up in her eyes behind the blindfold as she hears commotion. “Fucking moron, you’ll get us cut up—someone’s coming, on your feet, mate—“

 

There’s noises of a fight—grunts, thumps, shouts—she doesn’t really listen until she hears gurgling, and then nothing.

 

Two new voices begin to talk: a man and a woman.

 

“What brutes. Better off dead, they are,” the man remarks casually.

 

The woman breathes heavily. “Thanks for leaving the big one for me, Farlan,” she says sarcastically. “Shit, is the girl dead? Get Big Bro! She’s breathing!” The girl must be the one turning Historia over on her back, and she pulls the blindfold off of Historia. She blinks multiple times before her vision focuses in the low light, and she sees a woman with wild red hair in two low ponytails, and bright green eyes. Behind her is an ashy blonde with short hair and light eyes, his face hard and unwelcoming. Her own expression must be a sight because they both look startled and concerned as she tries to move away without success since she’s still bound and gagged. “Easy, easy! We’re friends,” the woman tries to assure her.

 

“Take out the fucking gag, Is,” the man chides. The woman looks like she wants to be annoyed but she brandishes a blade instead, making Historia flinch.

 

“It’s okay—I’m just going to cut the rope, okay?” The woman, Is, says. Historia watches her slowly move with wide eyes, and she indeed only cuts the rope around her ankles, and she moves around Historia to do the same to the rope on her wrists. Once the threading is cut, she pulls the gag from her mouth, the taste of dirty fabric lingering on her tongue. She rubs her wrists, noticing that the skin is not only raw, but bleeding slightly as she touches it. Is speaks again, a smile on her lips now. “That’s all better, isn’t it? I hope—”

 

“Oi, what the fuck’s taking so long down here?”

 

Another voice bellows with authority, making Historia jump again. The two with Historia are unfazed, Is actually brightening with excitement. “About time! We have a live one!”

 

Another man enters the basement, and he radiates danger, but not the same as the other men who roughhoused Historia. He’s shorter in stature, but stands with perfect posture, his knuckles bloody and his inky black hair disheveled slightly from what must have been a struggle. Despite the signs of a fight, his white button-up shirt is tucked in neatly with light blood spatter, his pants still obviously freshly pressed. His boots shine, grime only on the soles along with what must be blood. His slate eyes narrow as he meets Historia’s ocean eyes, taking in her frightened demeanor. “Did those animals fuck you?” After a moment to realize he’s talking to her, she just shakes her head in negative response. The man just blinks at her before asking, “Do you have a name, or a voice for that matter?”

 

Historia processes his question, and she realizes that he doesn’t know.

 

None of them do.

 

With a shaky voice, she answers, “Krista. Krista Lenz.”

 

The man holds her gaze for a long moment, and Historia wonders if he can see through her. If he does, he shows no indication and instead says, “Do you have a home, Krista Lenz?”

 

“I—Well—I stay at the orphanage. I help with the children,” she tells him.

 

Something gleams in his dark eyes that she can’t read. “Isabel, Farlan—take the girl back. The brats must be missing her.” He pauses as he turns around, casting a look at her over his shoulder. Her fingers tingle and her nerves burn as she breathes shallowly.

 

Suddenly, he’s gone. Isabel and Farlan help Historia get to her feet, her ankles burning from where the rope was tied. The man reappears at the bottom of the stairs and tosses Isabel a black coat. He doesn’t spare Historia a second glance before leaving again, calling back to them, “Cover her up. Don’t get my jacket dirty.” Historia’s head spins as Isabel drapes the jacket over her shoulders, and it smells of soap. She pulls it tighter around her body, grateful for the warmth it offers as she’s guided out of the basement and outside of the manor she was held in. Once outside, she recognizes the manor as one of a nobleman. Iris is the family name, she recalls. A hand on her shoulder startles her and she whirls around, this time Farlan is speaking to her.

 

“I asked you if you know how to ride a horse,” Farlan repeats.

 

“Yes,” she answers. Isabel brings over a horse with dark hair, nearly black, smiling kindly at Historia.

 

“Here you are, Krista. Do you know the way to the orphanage from here?” When Historia nods at Isabel’s question, she nods excitedly. “Great! We’ll send someone by tomorrow to fetch the horse. And by the way,” she pauses as she watches Historia mount the horse unsteadily, her legs shaking when she puts pressure on her feet where her ankles are rubbed raw. “You never saw us. Any of us. The men killed each other over you, and you ran out once you freed yourself. Is that clear?”

 

Historia between Isabel and Farlan, both of their eyes are shining with a warning. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

Isabel grins before slapping the hindquarters of the horse, and Historia races back to the orphanage. It’s difficult for her to navigate in the night, but after what feels like an eternity, she makes it back. She stables the horse with the two they have before heading inside. She’s relieved when she’s greeted with silence and the familiar smell lingering from the fireplace, embers remaining in its place. She heaves a sigh as she leans against the door, finally relaxing now that she’s home. Her tension returns slightly as she straightens when Sasha comes running down the stairs, eyes wild with disbelief when she sees Historia. “Krista!” She exclaims, then dropping her voice to a whisper. “Krista! Where have you been?! It’s been days—We’ve been worried  _sick_!”

 

“I—It’s a long story, I’m exhausted,” Historia pulls the jacket tighter around her. “Some men kidnapped me, but I ran off when they offed each other. I’m okay. I just need to rest.”

 

“Holy cow! I can’t believe it!” Sasha rushes up to Historia, looking her all over for wounds. “I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how scared you were. Do you need anything?”

 

“Rest,” Historia says again. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please don’t fetch the Military Police. I just want things to go back to normal.”

 

Sasha gives Historia an odd look, like she’s not sure what her intention is, and Historia hopes Sasha lets it go. Her intuition is abnormally acute and Historia really doesn’t need her sniffing up that trail if it leads to trouble. The brunette concedes and nods, a relieved smile returning to her face. “Okay. Go rest up. Don’t worry about chores tomorrow—we’ll give you some time to wash and relax now that you’re back. The kids will be happy.”

 

“Thank you, Sasha. Good night.”

 

“Good night.”

 

* * *

 

Historia doesn’t sleep.

 

She dozes off a few times, but she never really sleeps.

 

When she bathes in the morning, she scrubs her skin until her skin is red and raw, the marks from where she was bound bleeding again where the skin was broken. Her face bears cuts and bruises from her time captured, but nothing drastic. The children are elated to see her, pulling at her dress and tapping her legs to get her attention, making her jump every time. She flinches with loud sounds and she feels silly.

 

Sasha assures her that she’s not. “You were held captive. Your body is learning to cope,” she tells Historia, who just nods in acknowledgement before heading outside for fresh air. Sasha is able to keep the children from her for a few minutes, telling them to give her some alone time. “She needs to have quiet time—you kiddos are a little much today. Maybe she’ll be okay after lunch.” Historia hears her from just outside the doorway and lets herself smile as Sasha leads away the children for their meal.

 

She sits on the porch, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths as the breeze caresses her scraped cheeks, the only sound she hears being the leaves on the trees brush against one another with the wind.

 

And then horses hooves.

 

She can see someone riding closer, approaching on a gray horse, and when she recognizes the person, her body tightens with anxiety. The man from the night prior looks at her from his spot in the horse before dismounting, and she stands in turn. He takes slow, easy steps toward her, and she notices how he looks so much the same in the daylight. His white shirt is clean now, black pants still pressed, and his hair is a little wind-swept from his ride. He tucks his hands in his pockets and even in his casual stance, his presence is commanding.

 

“I’m here for the horse,” he tells Historia.

 

“Right,” she collects herself, his sharp eyes watching her dust off the skirt of her dress. “I have to get him from the stables. Your coat is inside—do you want to come in?”

 

She feels flustered even though he’s barely been present for a few moments. His eyebrows raise slightly but his face is otherwise impassive. “Keep the coat. Just bring me to the horse.”

 

Historia nods and begins the walk to the stables, which is around the back of the house and a few hundred feet away. The man follows, keeping about a foot behind her. “I didn’t get to thank you for saving me. I owe you my life,” she breaks the silence timidly.

 

“Better it was us than the MPs,” he responds in abored voice.

 

She glances at him over her shoulder, and his gray eyes are trained are her. She faces forward again to hide her flushed cheeks. “I also didn’t get to learn your name.” They reach the stables, and she can’t help but smile when the horses turn to look at her and the man.

 

He approaches his horse, reaching to pet his nose affectionately; the gesture seems odd with his stony persona. “You’re better off not knowing it.”

 

“And you know what’s good for me?” Historia retorts. The stranger gives her a sharp look that would make others flinch—it probably would have made her flinch, too, but she has years of resentment for being told what to do and what’s best for her.

 

“It’s Levi.”

 

Historia opens her mouth to test his name on her tongue, but snaps her jaw shut when one of the older girls, around the age of 12, runs up to the barn entrance only to stop short. She slides to a stop in the grass as she sees Levi, looking between the man and Historia. “Miss Krista, we think Lucas broke his nose. He fell on the stairs chasing Mai.”

 

“I’ll be right there, Leah,” Historia assures her. Leah gives Levi one more uneasy look before sprinting back. Historia unties the horse, hurriedly putting the saddle back on and buckling it. “I’m sorry, I need to get back, especially if we need to see a doctor.”

 

“Take him to Dr. Yeager,” Levi’s tone doesn’t indicate suggestion, but an order. “He’s on the east side of town.” Historia bristles as he adjusts the reigns on his horse.

 

“I don’t know what you think we do here, but we can’t afford private doctors.”

 

Levi takes a step toward her, and she becomes annoyed when she realizes she has to look up to meet his even gaze. “Tell him I sent you there. The bill will be taken care of.” He begins to lead the horse out of the stable, and she has no choice but to follow, annoyed.

 

“What’s the catch?” she asks skeptically.

 

He easily gets onto the horse, looking down at her from his seat. “We’ll discuss that later. Take care of the kid for now, farm girl.” He spurs the horse into a gallop, leaving her to watch him bewilderedly. She hears Leah call for her again, reminding her of her responsibilities, and she returns to the house. In the kitchen Lucas, a 4 year old boy, is sitting on the counter with a bloody rag to his nose and his face red from crying, Sasha trying to look at his bruised nose.

 

“Krista, someone needs to take him up to the hospital. I can’t set his nose—I don’t want to make it worse,” Sasha babbles, her accent showing in her worry.

 

“I’ll take him, you stay with the kids,” Historia tries to calm her down. Leah frantically taps her arm, her brown eyes wide as plates.

 

“Miss Krista, you be careful! That man is a Scout, I recognize him!” Leah shouts.

 

Historia takes Lucas in her arms. “What are you going on about? He just came for his horse that I borrowed last night when I got home.”

 

“No! That’s the Captain!” Leah insists.

 

Sasha’s energy begins to rise again with Leah’s panicking. “Is that where you went, Krista? Did they take ya?”

 

“No!” Historia raises her voice, irritated. “Everyone calm down! Sasha, we’ll talk later. Right now let me get Lucas to a doctor,” she says with finality as she heads outside to the stables again. Once they make their way into town, she ends up finding her way to Dr. Yeager’s home, unable to resist the temptation of Lucas seeing a good doctor without paying a bill. When she dismounts with the boy outside the house, she wonders what repaying Levi will look like the next time she sees him again, or when that would be.


	2. hidden bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia meets the Yeager family. Mikasa and Eren give Historia some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! i hope you enjoy this installment! working on another update soon, as well as an update for Closer (for those of you who read that as well).

Historia bangs on the door to the home, seeing as it’s locked, unrelenting until a tall man with brown hair and round glasses looks at Historia with surprise when he opens the door. “Please help us,” Historia urgently asks, “I’m Krista from the orphanage, and Lucas here needs a doctor.”

 

His eyes shine with an odd look before focusing on Lucas as he speaks to her, opening the door wider for them. “Bring him in.”

 

After setting Lucas’ nose, lots of crying, and two sweets later, Historia has Lucas nodding off in her lap while Dr. Yeager is taking a final look at his nose. The boy’s face is swollen and has started to bruise, but otherwise there isn’t anything of major concern.

 

“Thank you for helping us so suddenly,” Historia says gratefully. Dr. Yeager gives her a kind smile as he cradles the boy’s face. “The person who mentioned you made it seem like going anywhere else was foolish, and now I see why.”

 

“Who is it that referred you? I’ll be sure to send my thanks,” he inquires.

 

Historia hesitates, answering quietly, “Levi sent me.”

 

Dr. Yeager’s steady hands falter as he touches Lucas’ cheek, standing up straight as he turns his knowing gaze to Historia. She feels an uneasy urge to shift in her seat under the doctor’s scrutinizing gaze. “What did you say your name was?”

 

“Krista,” Historia tries to keep her voice steady.

 

“Krista, you seem like a sweet girl. You need to be careful around men like that. You have children that you’re responsible for,” he gestures to the now sleeping boy as he speaks, “and men like that only bring around trouble.”

 

She takes a deep breath, processing his words slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Yeager. He did me a great kindness, though, in directing me to you.”

 

“Call me Grisha,” he tells her with a small smile. “Levi Ackerman and kindness don’t often share a sentence together. You just be careful.” He looks out the window before turning back to them. “It’s getting into the evening. Would you care to stay for supper?”

 

“That’s very nice to offer, but I should get back. The kids can be a lot for Sasha to handle,” she declines politely.

 

Grisha nods in understanding. “Then at least take some goods back with you. My children can escort you back to the orphanage and bring some sweets for the kids—I don’t need the temptation under my roof,” he jokes. He disappears up his stairs, presumably to his home above his medical office where Historia is, and after about ten minutes returns with a man and woman about Historia’s age holding a bag each, full of food—sweet and healthy alike. “Krista, this is my son Eren, and daughter, Mikasa. Kids, this is Krista.”

 

Kids didn’t quite describe them. Eren stood tall above Historia with brown hair pulled back into a messy bun, brilliant green eyes shining with friendliness, and his broad shoulders telling he’s grown into his height as a man. Mikasa has short black hair and hard silver eyes, but a small smile reveals a shy kindness.

 

“Dad says we’re to take you home,” Eren says brightly. “Do you have a horse?”

 

“Yes,” Historia nods. “He’s tied outside. I appreciate your help.”

 

“It’s not safe for someone like you to travel alone when the sun is setting,” Grisha affirms, recovering quickly when he sees a flame light within Historia’s sharp blue eyes. “I just mean that you’re vulnerable with the boy. Judging from the cuts on your face and the bruising under the collar of your blouse, you’re also probably not much of a fighter.” Historia looks down and feels her ears burn when she realizes her bruises from the other night are clearly visible with ugly purple coloring. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ll let these two get you both home. Come back with Lucas in about a week so we can make sure that nose heals properly.”

 

Historia is itching to be out of the doctor’s home after being caught with her signs of her kidnapping being out in the open, even if he didn’t pry into the details. The ride back home is quiet at first, Eren and Mikasa riding on their horses on either side of Historia as they trot in an easy pace.

 

Mikasa breaks the silence, her voice soft in comparison to Eren. “I can teach you to defend yourself.”

 

Historia holds Lucas a little closer to her, the boy still asleep against her front. “I...You would do that?”

 

“Mikasa’s great. I can help too, but she’s the better fighter, technically speaking,” Eren interjects, a grin on his lips.

 

Mikasa responds in a deadpan despite her playful tone, “You just don’t know when to stop.”

 

Historia smiles, a warm blooming in her chest. She doesn’t have any friends her age outside of Sasha and Jean, who occasionally comes to help with the orphanage, and she can’t help but already feel a fondness to the Yeager siblings as they go back and forth with only some input from Historia. She learns that Eren has a fiery spirit and is determined to help others even at his own expense. Mikasa is quiet but carries a storm within her, and is also incredibly protective of Eren. She’s an adopted member of the family but doesn’t seem out of place with Grisha and Eren, and seems to fill a motherly place for Eren with how protective she is over him, since his mother passed away two years prior. They’re retelling stories about Carla when the orphanage is visible in the distance.

 

“I appreciate you two making sure we got home safe,” Historia tells them genuinely. “If you have the time, I’d love to learn some things from you both about self-defense.”

 

“We can come by later this week! How about the weekend?” Eren offers.

 

Historia smiles. “That would be great. Is there a way I can repay you?”

 

“I was actually wondering if I could come help out sometimes in return,” Mikasa voices timidly behind her red scarf. “I was here briefly before Grisha was able to legally take me in, and I’ve always felt a great debt here.”

 

“We would be grateful for the extra hands. Come over anytime.” Historia looks at the sun, just lowering under the horizon. “I’m going to get this little one inside. Be sure to tell your father again how thankful we are. I’ll see you both soon, yeah?”

 

“This weekend,” Eren promises. Mikasa and him wave before riding off, spurring their horses into a gallop as Historia returns to the house, exhausting weighing her bones down. She has barely been back 24 hours and already feels like she’s done so much. She manages to go inside with Lucas and get him into bed before helping Sasha get the rest of the children together and in bed. Some time later, the house is still and quiet, just the two women alone in the sitting room downstairs with the fire burning. Sasha brings them both herbal tea, notes of lavender rising with the steam, making Historia’s shoulders relax as she curls into the sofa beside Sasha.

 

“I figured you needed to unwind properly with a good cup o’ tea,” Sasha comments.

 

Historia makes a sound in agreement. “You’re spot on. Thank you.”

 

Sasha inhales deeply, as if bracing herself, before asking, “Krista...what in the world happened to you? The kids had been asking constantly but I had to make excuses. I was worried something bad happened.”

 

Historia knew this was coming. She sighs as if deflating, curling her fingers around her cup as she relishes in the warmth it offers. “I don’t really know. I went to the barn to check on the horses, and when I walked outside, someone put a wet cloth to my face with something on it, and I passed out. I woke up gagged, blindfolded, and tied up in a wagon, until I was brought inside somewhere. A basement. I was left there for who knows how long, and then...” she trails off, debating sharing the truth about how she was able to return with only bumps and bruises. Seeing the overwhelming concern in Sasha’s warm eyes, she huffs out a breath. “The men there were saying awful things. Then three people came in and killed them. The man the kids saw earlier—Levi—was one of them. He saved me and sent me home.”

 

Her tea is lukewarm. She drinks a large portion while Sasha mulls over Historia’s story before finally speaking, her voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Krista. I can’t imagine what it was like. I don’t even know what to say.” She shakes her head, her dark hair framing her face messily as some strands loosen from her ponytail. “Do you know Levi well?”

 

“No,” Historia tells her honestly. “But he’ll probably be back. I told Lucas to Dr. Yeager’s at his recommendation.” When Sasha’s eyes widen, Historia adds, “Look, I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to make sure Lucas was treated properly—he’s only a little boy,” she defends. “I don’t know how he’ll want me to pay him back, but I promise to be careful since some of the kids are uneasy around him. Dr. Yeager told me to mind my place around him, too. Oh! That reminds me—we’ll have some extra hands this weekend. Dr. Yeager’s kids are going to come help out, and they’ll teach me how to fight.”

 

Sasha laughs, her normal demeanor beginning to return. “If you’re going to be around the Captain of the Scouts at all then you’ll need all the help you can get.”

 

* * *

 

When Eren and Mikasa came around on the weekend, the children were elated. They love Eren’s infectious energy and Mikasa’s gentle smile, running circles around them while Sasha and Historia did chores around the house. Usually they enlist the older children to help, but they allowed Eren and Mikasa to exhaust their infinite energy early in the day.

 

After supper, they went outside in the fields train.

 

Mikasa starts with Historia as her opponent while Eren corrects her form and movements, his warmth lingering where he touches her arms and legs, his voice steady while he tells her why he’s correcting her.

 

“Remember Krista: you want to be rooted. If you don’t have solid footwork then you’re easy to overtake no matter what,” he reminds her.

 

Historia’s chest is rising and falling with labored breaths while Mikasa could be bored for all she knows with how unbothered she is. With each hit, Historia can feel the restraint in Mikasa’s movements, making her more frustrated that she’s so incredibly weak. A life of posh and privilege will result in such softness, she surmises sourly while she strikes the dark-haired girl. Mikasa easily avoids the hit and returns with a sharp jab at Historia’s side, making her keel over with the strong force behind it. Realizing how hard she hit her, Mikasa’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to actually hurt you,” she apologizes profusely as her hands hover over Historia’s shoulders, her hesitation showing her fear of hurting the blonde further.

 

“It’s okay—there’s no other way to learn, right?” she waves off Mikasa’s apology.

 

Seeing Mikasa’s internal conflict, Eren speaks up. “I’ll practice with you for now so Mikasa can take a break.” His sister looks like a mixture of guilt and relief, sitting in the grass to the side while they get into stance. Historia’s energy is reignited by the challenge in Eren’s emerald eyes, glowing in the light of the setting sun. He doesn’t move with as much grace as his sister, and he holds back even less. Historia tires faster, sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she picks herself up from the ground for the umpteenth time, her determination holding fast when she sees Eren’s expression is bright with amusement.

 

“You think I’m funny, do you?” Historia asks with more bite than she intended.

 

Eren responds with a bellowing laugh before moving to attack again. Historia isn’t sure if it’s her annoyance with his laughter or her own failure to grasp what they’re teaching her, but something sparks as she watches Eren move, her instinct guiding her to react. She ducks under his extending arm, sneaking to land a direct punch to his sternum and knocking the wind out of him. His eyes widen as he’s caught off guard and she lands another hit to knock him back and make him stumble off his feet, landing in the grass behind him. He looks up at her for a moment in bewilderment before breaking into a huge smile, pride emanating from him. “That’s how you do it!”

 

Even Mikasa looks pleased, hiding her joy behind her scarf. Historia feels great sense of accomplishment wash over her; even if it’s one success amidst a number of failures, it’s a step in the right direction. She’s distracted for all of a moment when Eren is back on his feet, bending his knees slightly as he gets back in form.

 

“Now let’s see if you can pull that off twice.”

 

She does. She realizes that she’s overthinking how to fight, even if she does need awareness of some tactic. She finds it easier to spar with Eren than Mikasa, who hides her strength beneath her quiet demeanor.

 

The time passes until the sun is set and the moon’s rising, casting moonlight over the trio when they call it a day. Historia feels exhausted, her muscles burning pleasantly.

 

“Thank you again for coming for the children, and for me.” She hesitates as she begins to ask a question that had been weighing on her mind all evening. “Do either of you know anything about the Scouts?”

 

Both Yeager siblings perk up curiously at Historia’s question. Eren is the first to answer, “They’re a gang that has a lot of activity through the different cities, but especially out here in the Maria region. They stand up to the crown and the corrupt Military Police.”

 

“They’re criminals,” Mikasa corrects as she narrows her eyes when she glances at Eren.

 

“But they do what’s right...most of the time,” he adds on. “Why are you asking?”

 

“I was just curious,” Historia answers, half telling the truth.

 

“Krista, are you in some kind of trouble with them?” Mikasa’s voice is full of concern.

 

Historia doesn’t want to lie, but isn’t sure she can tell the truth, either. “No,” she says, deciding to answer somewhere in between. “I heard the kids talking about them.” Not a full lie, either. Mikasa’s stony gaze is unwavering as she reads Historia, only finally nodding and thankfully not pressing the matter any further. They part ways, agreeing to meet again the following week.

 

Once inside, Historia is able to help Sasha put all the children to bed before she takes a bath, washing away the sweat, taking in the fresh bruises that will surely discolor by the next day. The once hot water has turned cold when she gets out, toweling off in a daze. Her body is heavy with exhaustion, but she wills herself to return to her room to dress in a simple gray nightgown. Sleep sounds appealing, but she decides to have a cup of chamomile tea before bed to help her sleep through the night.

 

Since the night she was taken, she hasn’t slept a full night. She wakes up in cold sweats, with panic tight in her chest, and her muscles tense as if awaiting the unwelcome touch of another. She keeps having tea before bed to try and help, but so far she has no success. She combs through her damp hair once before she slowly makes her way downstairs, careful to skip the steps that squeak so she doesn’t wake anyone else in the late hour. Once her foot meets the floor, she moves to turn the corner to enter the kitchen. When she pivots on her foot, what happens next happens in a matter of seconds.

 

She moves to take another step, only to be held to the spot, a hand covering her mouth to muffle any sounds that she may make, the other on her shoulder to hold her in place. Her heart instantly begins to race erratically, panic making her whole body tingle in the dark.

 

“Don’t scream.”

 

The voice is familiar; deep and calm, belonging to the man who has been on her mind all week.

 

Levi.

 

“If I move my hand, can you promise not to wake the whole damn house?”

 

Historia nods as bests she can, so Levi withdraws from her. She whirls around and smacks him in the face, appalled at herself when the sound echoes in the silence. “You could have knocked like a normal fucking person!” she exclaims, trying to keep her voice low.

 

His dark eyes are murderous despite his even composure. “I have a point to make.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“You need protection,” he explains blankly.

 

“Like hell I do.” Historia turns on her heel abruptly, heading to the fireplace to put a kettle over the low-burning fire.

 

“If I was anyone who actually wanted to hurt you, I could’ve done so just now. Could’ve killed you, actually,” Levi remarks as casually as if speaking of the time.

 

Historia cocks an eyebrow at his choice of words. “And I’m meant to believe that you don’t have any ill intent toward me, making comments like that?”

 

“No.” Levi crosses his arms as he leans against a wall, looking far too comfortable. “Whether you believe me or not, I’m your best ally right now.”

 

“You wouldn’t even give me your name until I pried. Why should I think you’re my ally? Who do I need protection against, anyway?” she readies a pot of tea with fresh leaves as she talks, her annoyance apparent.

 

“That nobleman and his goons took an interest enough in you to snatch you up. There’s bound to be others.”

 

Levi’s words from when they found her the other day echo in her head as she listens to his response. _Better it was us than the MPs._ “You mentioned it was better you found me instead of the Military Police. Do I need protection from them, too?” She turns to face him, her guard lowering as she meets his gaze with worry, allowing some of her fear to show. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t on edge since that day, looking over her shoulder when she walks outside alone and jumping at every other sound. Levi’s expression is neutral, not allowing any cards to be shown; it frustrates Historia and makes her uncertain about the man’s intentions.

 

“I think if you don’t now, then you’ll need it in the future,” he informs her as she pours the hot water in the pot, letting the leaves steep. “You look like a posh girl from Mitras, one who a lot of filthy men would pay good money for. Corrupt MPs are known to turn a blind eye if they get to sample forbidden fruit. I think if someone was bold enough to move on you and keep you in his own personal home, you’re at risk for one of his shitty friends picking you up or worse, an MP.” Levi moves from his spot on the wall and takes a few steps to close the space between them. Historia stands up straight, feeling remarkably small when looking at Levi up close—he’s not too much taller, but she can see his lithe muscles hiding underneath his white shirt and how deliberate every single movement is for him, emphasizing just how much he is in control. “What makes you so fucking special?” he asks in a whisper, his eyes searching hers. Up close, she can see flecks of blue in his silver irises.

 

“I’m not special,” she mutters, feeling her cheeks heat up with their proximity. His eyes roam over her face, down her neck to her clavicle, lingering on each scabbing cut and fresh bruises from sparring with the Yeager siblings earlier.

 

Levi reaches out to touch her with one of his rough hands, his fingertips like ghosts over her skin as he pulls the collar of her blouse back just enough to see a bruise on her shoulder. He then quickly takes her wrists in his hands, not missing how she visibly flinches even with his gentle grasp. They are also healing, the skin less angry and now an ugly color as some open skin has scabbed, the rest rough to the touch. She’s startled by how he handles her like she’s fragile—which she supposes, compared to him, she absolutely is. He only represents danger to her even if he saved her once before, a silent threat following him like a shadow even in the safety of the orphanage. His voice brings her out of her thoughts as he speaks in that low tone. “Clearly there’s something about you that’s caught the interest of others.”

 

Historia blinks, speaking before she can think about the words falling from her tongue. “And your interest?” His eyes flash for a moment, considering giving an actual response to her question. She sees the contemplation and the lapse in his mask, something carnal hidden behind his cold demeanor. He's silent, and she takes the opportunity to pour the tea and distract herself from reaching for what she shouldn't. “Will you have a cup with me? It’s chamomile.”

 

“Yes. Thanks.” He accepts the cup stoically, his hard exterior returning. He sits on the far side of the sofa from her, the space obviously deliberate. “I will send someone here to watch over you and the rest of the brats here.”

 

“That’s hardly necessary,” Historia tries to argue weakly.

 

“Think of it as extra help,” Levi doesn’t leave any more room for debate. “They’ll be good people, I can promise that. No one will know they’re here from me. It should be unspoken that you will not say anything either.”

 

“If you insist,” she scoffs as she sips her tea.

 

Levi hums when he drinks his, leaning back into the sofa. “Not bad. Do you not sleep well, or just fancy chamomile?”

 

She’s caught off guard by his question, unsure if he truly cares or not. She answers truthfully anyway. “I haven’t been resting well since I came back.” It’s straightforward enough but unwelcoming all the same, hoping that he won’t ask any further questions about it.

 

He doesn’t, only silently regarding her over the rim of his cup as he drinks. “It gets easier.”

 

Since he didn’t ask questions, she didn’t ask any of him at his comment. The rest of the pot of tea is consumed in silence, awkward at first, slowly turning into a surprisingly comfortable atmosphere. Historia spends time studying Levi’s angular facial features, the way he reclines into the sofa, the odd way he holds his tea cup, and the tiny scars that mar his knuckles and fingers. She turns her gaze to the dying fire, dozing off eventually as just embers remain. She doesn’t notice how Levi plucks the now empty cup from her loose hold or hear him wash the pot and cups in the kitchen. She’s slouched into the sofa, leaning on the armrest when she manages to open her eyes for a long moment, her vision blurry in the dim light. She’s able to process that it’s Levi who shuts the front door, vanishing into the night as diligently as he appeared.

 

Her buzzing mind finally giving into sleep, she shuts her eyes, falling into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know your thoughts and feelings in the comments!
> 
> much love


	3. masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi calls in his favor with Historia. An old friend finds Historia. Levi's annoyed with everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! i'm trying to update at least once a week or every two weeks. this is packed with (what i hope is) goodies for y'all, so we can get this plot moving. plus with some rivahisu teasing. ;)

Two days after Historia and Levi’s conversation, two new people did indeed show up to volunteer their help for the orphanage.

 

Two men, Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover, look like an odd pair on the front porch. Jean is the one who answers the door when they come knocking in the middle of breakfast; he takes one look at them before turning to shout, “Sasha! Krista!”

 

A long conversation later, Reiner and Bertholdt commit themselves to reside at the orphanage and help out for the foreseeable future. When Historia corners them alone for a short minute after lunch, Bertholdt gives her a nervous smile. “I know Captain Levi says we’re here to protect you, but it’s for the children, too,” he assures her.

 

“Even then—“ Reiner steps between them, putting his hands up in mock surrender, “—this is a welcome change from our normal job. This orphanage took us in years ago when our village was ransacked by thieves and criminals. We can finally do for these kids what was done for us so long ago, now that we’re able to.”

 

Historia believes them and eases up on them. “I’m happy to hear that you’re sincere about helping out. The kids needs commitment, not a temporary assignment. Now, let’s get the kitchen cleaned up, yeah?”

 

She may not be a fan of their primary reason—protecting her—but she knows the kids are happy about the pair being there.

 

A week passes, and Historia rises from the tub after a long bath, looking over her body in the mirror. The bruises from that night in the basement are healed, the marks on her wrists and ankles from the binding now white scars on her milky skin. She raises her arms, noticing that her ribs are slightly visible, her stomach no longer full from the lavish diet of a princess. She is not gaunt, but it is obvious that she doesn’t eat the way she used to, and she knows that giving away much of her food to the children doesn’t help. She eats enough to not be hungry, but doesn’t choose to overindulge. The small muscles beneath her skin are becoming more prominent despite how lean she is, given her training sessions with the Yeager siblings. She smiles at herself in the mirror, content that she doesn’t recognize the former princess and instead sees herself.

 

A knock on the door startles her, making her grab her towel to wrap herself in as Sasha opens the door. “Krista?” she calls, not looking in the bathroom but cracking the door all the same. “You have a visitor here.”

 

“This late?” Historia’s voice is full of confusion, her understanding coming to her just before Sasha fills in the blank.

 

“It’s that Captain Levi. He’s in the dining room.”

 

Historia gets dressed in loose trousers and a plain shirt, her damp hair flowing freely over her shoulders. She rushes downstairs to find Levi already sitting at the table, reclining in his seat as he waits. Upon her approach he raises his head, giving nothing away in his expression.

 

“We have business to discuss,” he states as he gestures for her to sit in the chair across from him. She complies, despite her urge to bolt from the room; and yet, she also feels compelled to stay under the spell his dark eyes cast on her. She meets his gaze, keeping her composure as he crosses his arms.

 

“What is it?” she asks evenly.

 

Levi cocks an eyebrow but otherwise remains stone-faces. “I need your company.”

 

“Is that so?” Historia guffaws, unable to hide her surprise. “Why should I indulge you?”

 

“Because you owe me,” he tells her simply. “I saved your life. I gave you protection. I took care of the bill for your brat’s nose.”

 

As much as she wants to argue that she didn’t ask for protection, she can’t dispute the other two favors. So she instead asks calmly, “What kind of company am I providing?”

 

“You’re mainly to be arm candy,” he informs her. “There’s a gala in a week that some of the Scouts are attending. We’re going to make connections there, but I need someone to help snag the deal.”

 

“How exactly will I do that?” she glares, anticipating the worst.

 

“Just being yourself,” he ignores her fiery gaze. “I think I’ve figured out who you are.” Historia freezes at his words. “You’re a posh, wealthy girl who’s run from her family. Maybe when you were a teenager you were betrothed to some older man you didn’t love and you felt the need to run, since you’re obviously an idealist, taking care of the brats here.” He uncrosses his arms as he leans forward in his seat while Historia stares at him with wide eyes. “You’re what now, twenty years old? You’re young enough to still be naïve. But you’re more cultured than I am, I can see it. I’ll need someone who’s familiar with the noble lifestyle and etiquette to get those who are too scared to deal with someone like me, unless they see I’m with someone like you.”

 

She’s silent, her worried mind processing all of this to ultimately settle on one fact: Levi still doesn’t know who she is.

 

So she goes with it.

 

“You won’t tell my secret?” she asks.

 

Levi lets out a breathy chuckle, the beginning of a smirk pulling at his lips. “Do you think I tell people things?”

 

It becomes Historia’s turn to laugh weakly. “I suppose not.” She heaves a sigh of relief as she relaxes in her seat. “Will you at least tell me how old  _you_ are, Levi?”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ll need to know  _some_ things about my date,” she quips.

 

His silver eyes glint with amusement, and she smiles. “I’m twenty-eight,” he begins. “You’ll mainly need to know what business I’m going to be trying to scope out. Here’s what you’ll need to know...”

 

* * *

 

After another week goes by, Historia is in a carriage with Levi, heading toward some nobleman’s mansion for the evening. Levi is dressed in a black suit tailored to fit his lithe form perfectly. Historia’s dress reaches her ankles, the navy color contrasting well with her bright blue eyes. Her long hair is tied back in a braid that’s pinned in a bun at the base of her neck, thanks to Sasha’s careful hands. Her dress hugs her figure, accentuating her womanly curves. She’s small in stature and form, but the two years she’s been away from the castle have been kind to her, allowing her hips to fill even if she’s lost weight from her drastic change in diet. The carriage ride has been quiet, with Levi not commenting on her appearance once even when she said he looked handsome. He’s tense in his seat, his jaw clenched tightly.

 

“You’re not to leave my side,” he suddenly tells her as the carriage slows. “Don’t let any of these pigs get you alone unless I say so. We don’t know who can be trusted here. Besides, you’re bound to draw attention to yourself.”

 

Historia’s stomach tightens in knots. “What if someone recognizes me?”

 

“If you spot them first, tell me. Tap or squeeze my arm twice if you can’t tell me outright.” He furrows his brow as he notices her anxiety is written all over her face once the carriage stops. “Relax.” He steps out first and offers his hand to her in a gentlemanly fashion, which she takes to balance herself as she steps outside. Once steady on her feet, she takes a deep breath as they begin to walk, adjusting so that she’s holding his arm just above his elbow. The gala is beautifully set up, with music playing, food and drinks for all, and dozens of people dressed to impress. She takes another deep breath, absently tightening her hold on his arm, becoming distracted at the muscle she can feel underneath the fabric. Levi leans in close so that only she hears him say, “Relax or you’ll shit yourself.” She looks at him in bewilderment and laughs, her nervousness ebbing. The corners of his lips pulls up in a small smile. “See? You look lovely. Keep it up and you’ll land me every deal I need today.”

 

Historia wasn’t sure if it was Levi complimenting her that made her shiver or his breath hot on the shell of her ear, but she blushed anyway. Levi’s expression remained mostly impassive as he shook hands with other men, politely nodding to their dates. There were a few women that he gave firm handshakes to, but Historia noticed this gala is very male-dominated.  Typical , she thought.

 

“ _ Levi! _ ” A voice squeals.

 

Historia feels Levi tense up, and she braces for the worst. A person—woman?— appears before them, brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and the bright lighting reflecting on their glasses. They’re grinning maniacally and Levi’s arms relax minutely. “Hange,” he greets unenthusiastically.

 

“You’re terribly missed at the barracks, Levi!” Hange exclaims. “You know, I actually had questions about—“

 

“Later, Four-Eyes,” he snaps. “Is the Commander here?”

 

“Oh, yes! He’ll look out for you to play catch-up,” Hange nods eagerly before turning their attention to Historia. “And who is this beautiful little bird?! I’m Hange Zoe, Levi’s best friend!”

 

“Self appointed,” he grumbles.

 

Hange doesn’t miss a beat, animatedly shaking Historia’s hand—a welcome acknowledgment. “So are you a new Scout?”

 

“No, just helping for the evening,” Historia answers with a smile.

 

Hange reciprocates, gratefully saying, “Well, it’s much appreciated, Miss...?”

 

“Krista,” Historia supplies.

 

“Krista,” Hange nods before adding, “A friend to Levi is a friend to any Scout.”

 

Levi clears his throat and Historia swallows any question she had in response to Hange’s statement. “I see someone I need to speak with.”

 

“It’s always a pleasure, Levi!” Hange chirps. They wink at Historia before disappearing into the mix of people dancing. Levi leads Historia over to an older man who’s face is red from laughter and what appears to be alcohol in one of his hands. At the sight of Levi he straightens up, extending his hand out for a firm shake.

 

“As I live and breathe—Levi Ackerman!” the man bellows. “What can I do you for, boy?” Levi gives a tight smile as he talks to the man about trade permits, easily showing his business persona. Historia tunes out the conversation, distracted as she glances around the room for people who may recognize her; luckily, her father never entertained people in these outer towns so she doesn’t spot anyone. As she begins to relax, a familiar face enters her line of sight and she feels panic shoot through her. She tightens her hold on Levi’s arm and squeezes twice, repeating the action again when he doesn’t acknowledge her right away. He casually turns to glance in the direction she’s looking when his eyes go round and the man approaches the pair with curious eyes, and a warm smile. The man Levi is conversing with lightens up and gives the newcomer a loud smack on his shoulder. “Erwin Smith! How the hell are ya?”

 

Erwin turns his attention to the man, sharing his pleasantries while Historia is petrified beside Levi, who places his hand over hers on his bicep. The small gesture barely eases her worry as Erwin’s sharp blue gaze focuses on her. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments in a friendly voice.

 

Historia opens her mouth to make up some excuse when Levi cuts in, “You know Krista, Erwin?”

 

Erwin studies the two, and Historia‘s eyes widen anxiously, silently pleading for him to play along. “I do,” he nods easily. “Since she was a little thing, actually.”

 

“She’s still a little thing,” the man comments light-heartedly.

 

“Be kind, Pixis,” Erwin pats his shoulder.

 

Levi is unhappy about being out of the loop in the exchange; Pixis pays no mind. “She is quite the beauty, Levi.”

 

“She always has been,” Erwin agrees. “So, Krista—“ he emphasizes her name as he smiles at her, “—how did you come to meet Levi?”

 

Historia looks at Levi, who doesn’t come to her aid, so she says the first thing that comes to mind. “I borrowed a horse one day,” she blurts out.

 

Pixis sputters while Erwin chuckles, “And you lived to tell the tale?”

 

“Surprisingly enough,” she relaxes.

 

“Tell me, Levi,” Pixis interrupts, “have you even taken her out on the dance floor yet?”

 

“No,” Levi deadpans.

 

“Then allow me to be the gentleman of the evening!” He sets down his empty glass on a nearby table before approaching Historia, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

 

She feels her face flush, glancing at Levi for permission. He rolls his eyes and pulls her out to the other couples dancing instead, and she can hear Erwin and Pixis’ laughter as Levi does so. They easily fall in step to the waltz that the band is playing, and Levi cocks an eyebrow at her. “You dance well.”

 

“Posh girl, remember?” Historia throws his words back at him playfully. “Thank you for saving me just now. I didn’t expect to see Erwin here.”

 

“How do you know him? He’s one of the two commanders of the Military Police.”

 

“...he’s a good friend of my father’s.”

 

Historia notices that he’s leading her through the crowd with ease. “You didn’t find it necessary to mention your family is well-connected when the Military Police?” he asks irritably.

 

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” she retorts.

 

”You’re telling me that after all that I told you about, all the kinds of people I would be interacting with here with you on my arm, that you didn’t feel it was important that a friend of your father’s happens to be one of the two commanders of the Military Police?”

 

Historia’s chest tightens uncomfortably as she feels Levi grip her hand and waist tighter in his frustration. “It must have slipped my mind,” she gritted out. “It’s not like I expected anyone to be here of real importance. I made an assumption.”

 

”An assumption that could have ended badly,” he snaps.

 

”Why is it even a problem?” she asks irritably. “Does it even matter right now?”

 

His nostrils flare, and his composure lapses for a moment as he breaks step, practically dragging her down a long corridor and around a corner, his hand bruising her arm where he holds her. He throws open a door and she stumbles in behind him as he slams it shut, promptly letting her go. She gets her bearings, realizing they’re in a guest bedroom that’s lavishly decorates He whirls around on her, his anger showing as he runs a hand through his hair. “Are you always so fucking  _dumb_?”

 

“Excuse me?!” she shouts.

 

“You seriously don’t understand  _why_ it’s a problem if you didn’t tell me your family—who may be looking for you, by the way—is so damn close to the MPs?” Levi growls. “If Erwin wasn’t the former head of the Scouts and our primary connection in the MPs then I could be arrested and you thrown back to wherever you came from!”

 

Historia’s eyes glisten with tears of fury and fear, her emotions spilling over as she explodes. “Like you even give a shit! You just care about your deals and your business! You just keep me around because you need me—not because my life  _actually_ matters to you. Do you really think I knew Erwin would be here? I’m just as terrified of being recognized as you are of being caught!”

 

“Fuck, you’re so thick-headed!” he takes a step toward her, making her step backward. “Do you really think I’d waste so much time if I didn’t give a shit about you? I may seem heartless, but I value the lives of my comrades above all else.” He takes another step, and she takes one away, the backs of her legs hitting the mattress; she falls back on the bed, looking up at him as a few tears fall. At the sight of her crying, he steps away, running his hand through his hair again. “Please don’t cry.” Historia wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, making Levi scrunch up his nose. He reaches into his suit jacket and takes out a white handkerchief, sitting on the bed beside her. “Hold still.” He cups her face with one hand, keeping her in place while he wipes her tears away with the handkerchief. She blinks, startled, and remains in place while she takes in how close Levi is. The handkerchief is soft and smells like fresh linen, and his hand is warm yet rough. Up close, she can see freckles on his nose and flecks of blue in his dark pewter eyes. When her tears are gone, he withdraws his hands, tucking his handkerchief away while he notices her searching eyes. “What?”

 

“Your eyes have blue in them,” she remarks softly.

 

“So?”

 

“It’s...it’s pretty,” she stammers.

 

Levi huffs, “You think my eyes are pretty?”

 

“What if I do?” Historia glares weakly at him, earning a chuckle from him. The sound is odd, coming from Levi, but it’s pleasant all the same.

 

Levi opens his mouth to reply before snapping it shut, his eyes narrowing as he hears something. Historia strains to listen—perhaps footsteps or voices?—and squeaks when Levi grabs her shoulders and forces her to lie on the bed. “Go along with it,” he tells her. Before she can ask what she’s going along with, Levi’s lips are on hers. Her breathing hitches and she grabs the front of his dress shirt by the collar, balling her fists in the material. His hair tickles her cheeks as he molds his mouth to hers. His hands slide down her arms to her sides in response, one grabbing a leg to lift up, pressing her thigh against his hip as he parts her lips with his tongue. She’s so lost in the sudden kiss, so overwhelmed with Levi in all of her senses, that she doesn’t hear Erwin’s deep voice say their names, but she  does hear Hange cackling when Levi slips his hand under the hem of her dress and squeezes her thigh while he bites her lower lip. 

 

“If you can come up for air, Hange needs to tell you something, Captain,” Erwin laughs.

 

Levi rests his forehead against Historia’s when he breaks the kiss, both of their breathing labored. Her heart is beating wildly while she tries to process what just happened. Levi pulls her to sit up and straightens his jacket, holding Historia’s gaze evenly while he does so. The act makes her stomach flip, and he seems to pick up on it as his pupils dilate. He turns to follow Hange out the door and leaves Erwin alone with Historia, who feels like a child caught red-handed in a sweets jar.

 

When Erwin’s smile fades into a serious expression, she knows that’s exactly what she is.

 

“What are you  _thinking_ , Historia?!” he questions instantly when the door clicks shut. 

 

“ _Hush!_ ” she shushes him.

 

“You could get Levi executed! Your father has been looking all over for you!” Erwin continues. “Do you have any idea the risks you’re taking by simply  _being_ here?”

 

“I know, I just—“

 

“Do you have any idea the risk  _I _took by helping you run away? Do you know how easily you’re throwing that away if you got caught tonight?”

 

His question falls between them with a pregnant pause. Erwin’s harsh demeanor drives home just how careless she’s been; Erwin is usually so level-headed even when caught off guard but he’s blatantly upset now. She can’t recall the last time he was so openly frustrated, aside from the night before she left home. Before that...she can’t name a time he lost composure. Between Levi’s anger, his sudden kiss that’s left her heated, and Erwin’s newfound anger, it all makes her feel embarrassingly small and reckless. She’s left crying again as the weight of his words sink in. “Yes,” she whimpers.

 

Erwin’s icy gaze softens. He sits beside her on the bed, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You need to be careful. Levi is a good man, despite all his flaws, but even he can’t protect you from your father or Zeke.”

 

Historia looks down at her lap, shame and guilt washing over her as she recalls the night she ran away with Erwin’s help.

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Historia!” _

 

_ She looks out her window to see Erwin looking up expectantly at her. She gasps and rushes to grab her small bag from her bed. She’s dressed in plain trousers and a white long-sleeve shirt, prepared in worn brown boots. Throwing the bag over her shoulders, she takes a final glance around her bedroom. She doesn’t care for the material things she’ll miss, but her gaze lingers on a tattered book on her nightstand, which she grabs before opening her window. She stuffs the book in her bag—all she has packed are a change of clothes, plenty of money to last her while she travels far from the castle, and now her book—and she tosses the bag to Erwin. From her second story perch, she hesitates as she swings her feet over the ledge. Erwin holds his arms open, her bag on his back, waiting for her. _

_ “Like we practiced,” he reminds her. _

 

_ She takes a deep breath and jumps, landing with a small grunt in Erwin’s arms. He sets her on her feet before abruptly taking off, her following behind him. She hides behind his broad shoulders and tall figure while he scopes out each corner. They quietly make their way through the grounds until they reach the stables, which are deserted except for another blonde MP that Historia recognizes immediately. _

 

_ “Annie,” Historia breathes. “What are you doing here?” _

_ “Helping you,” she states. Her eyes, normally cold as ice, are cloudy with emotion that is unlike her. _

_ “You could be killed for this,” Historia protests. “I’m not worth that. You’re so new to the guard, and—“ _

_ “—and I don’t believe in what the King is planning to do with you,” Annie interjects. “I am part of the guard sworn to protect the princess. This is me fulfilling that duty, Historia.” She tosses a green cloak at Historia, who pulls it on, the Military Police emblem now on her back. “This will hide that I’m sneaking someone out who’s not part of the guard. Don’t let your hood down,” she orders. “Pull back your hair while you’re at it, too.” _

 

_ Historia does as she’s told and Erwin hands over her bag, which she throws over her shoulders. “Ride until you’re out of the city. Then keep going,” he advises. “He’ll send out a search party once your absence is confirmed. I suggest going to a town from one of the outer cities. Between your father and Zeke, you will be a wanted person indefinitely.” _

_ “I understand,” Historia nods. “Thank you. I owe you a great debt I can never repay.” _

 

_ “Like Annie said—it is my duty. Our duty.” Erwin reaches out to Historia, tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind her ears. Affection glitters in his eyes, seeing somewhere past Historia that she can’t reach. “You’ve grown into a brave young woman. I’m sorry that your hand is forced as it is now.” _

_ “Me too.” _

 

_ His cups her cheek gently. “You know that if you do this, you cannot return. The King may imprison you for your disobedience,” Erwin says gravely. _

_ Historia nods, her expression solemn. “I know. Thank you again, Erwin. I hope to see you again some day when it’s safe for us both.” _

_ He drops his hand, withdrawing as she hoists herself onto the brown mare that’s already saddled up. She holds Erwin’s gaze for a long moment while Annie gets onto her horse, pulling her hood up. _

 

_ “Remember—don’t stop unless you must. There is no going back after tonight,” Erwin tells them both. He stands back and salutes, which Annie returns before ushering her horse to take off in a gallop. Historia bites back tears as she spurs her horse into action behind Annie, leaving behind everything she’s known to run into everything she doesn’t. _

 

* * *

 

“Is Annie safe?”

 

“Yes. She made it back to the castle and no one knew she left.” Erwin nods with a genuine smile. “Your father and Zeke won’t know that I saw you here. You have my word,” Erwin puts his fist over his heart in a salute to her. “I may be loyal to the crown, but I remain loyal to the true ruler. You would have made a better leader than your father has ever been.”

 

Historia smiles sadly. “That’s very kind of you, but I can’t take his place after all this time. I can never go back.”

 

There’s a gleam in his eyes that she can’t discern, but he just puts a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “You seem happy. I’m sure that everyone has told you to be careful around Levi, but...”

 

Her face burns as she pieces together his train of thought. “No! I—“

 

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assures her. “He doesn’t take partners often, so while I’m surprised, I’m certainly not disappointed. I’ll always be here for you first, though.”

 

The door swings open loudly, and Levi re-enters the room. He looks at Erwin and Historia before asking in a bored tone, “Are you done gabbing like hens? You’re missed out there, Erwin, and I need to speak to you before you go play military man.”

 

“I suppose I am.” Erwin pulls Historia into a warm hug that she reciprocates, sighing as his strong arms envelop her. “You are still a brave woman.”

 

Tears prickle at her eyes, melancholy nostalgia blooming up in her chest as she clings to Erwin. “I hope to see you again when it’s safe.”

 

“You will,” Erwin assures her before pulling away and standing. He gives her a fond smile before stepping outside the room with Levi. She doesn’t hear them speak over the distant sound of the music, so she lays down on the bed as she tries to collect her thoughts.

 

Seeing Erwin made her realize the gravity of her situation. She‘s lucky that she’s been able to hide in plain sight at the orphanage for as long as she has, but she wonders how her disappearance impacted Erwin. Or Annie. She still fears being discovered and returned to her father, who would likely imprison her at this point. If Zeke is still concerned about her disappearance, though...

 

She shivers.

 

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knows, she’s blinking the room into focus. The candles are burning low and the distant music is gone. She turns on her back and stretches, arching her body as she does so. She looks to the other side of the room and sees Levi standing, looking outside the window. The moonlight washes over his face, and when he looks back at Historia, his silver eyes seem iridescent. “You’re awake.”

 

“Yes—I’m sorry for falling asleep. Why didn’t you wake me?”

 

“You seemed upset. I didn’t want to add more to it,” Levi answers plainly. His jacket is discarded beside her on the bed, and his sleeves are rolled up. She notices that his forearms are not as scarred as his hands. “Listen,” he begins awkwardly, hesitating as he picks his next words, “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t know who would come in, and I didn’t want anyone to be suspicious...”

 

It takes Historia a moment to figure out what he’s talking about, but she sits upright suddenly when she realizes he’s speaking about their kiss. “Oh, no, it’s—“ she sputters, flustered and cheeks burning, “it’s alright, it wasn’t like it was unpleasant or anything—“

 

Levi snorts. “Well, good.” He grabs his jacket and hands it to her, so she shrugs it on. “Let’s get you home. People should be sleeping or fucking by now so no one will miss us.”

 

Unable to find a reason to stay, Historia just follows.

 

* * *

 

The ride back to the orphanage is silent.

 

They take just a horse, seeing as the carriage was tied up more than Levi cares to deal with. He leads the horse and Historia sits behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle as she sits uncomfortably on the horse with her dress. The fabric is bunched up on her thighs, her calves rubbing against the saddle. She doesn’t complain, only holding onto Levi tighter when it begins to hurt. Under her hands she can feel the taut muscles of his abdomen, flexing when he steers the horse sharply by the reigns. The wind is too brisk for her to doze off, but she is thankful to not think too much on the ride home.

 

What she does think about is Levi.

 

She was not unaware how handsome he is prior to the gala, but she feels that her emotions are flipped upside down now. Where she used to feel apprehensive about him she now feels enticed, and annoyance is now endearment. She feels a great amount of respect to him for how he handles his business dealings and how much he values his people. But above all, she can’t get past their kiss. It was heated and rushed, all a ploy to fool whoever would have found them alone, but it also felt so painfully  _real_. The way his hips pressed to hers, how he grabbed at her thigh under her dress, and how he was eager to part her lips to make her sigh with pleasure.

 

As quickly as he pried her apart, he had withdrawn in that same moment.

 

She wonders if he knows.

 

“You awake, Krista?”

 

Right.

 

He doesn’t.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. We’re coming up on the house.”

 

The horse’s pace slows to a lazy trot, and she lays her palms flat on his front. She feels a slight flex in response, making her smile in amusement. “Tell me something about yourself, Levi,” she says suddenly.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I want to know,” she voices honestly.

 

He’s quiet for a long moment before he tells her in a soft voice, “Before all of this...before the Scouts, I wanted to work with horses.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.” He pauses. “I feel calm with them. They see you as you are and they either accept you, or they don’t.”

 

Historia nods even though he can’t see, and hums in agreement. When they approach, Levi dismounts and holds his hand out for her to take. She does, landing uneasily on her feet in her dress shoes, stumbling forward into Levi’s broad chest. He helps her get steady, his hands on her shoulders. She looks up at him once she’s standing straight, noticing the circles under his eyes have darkened in the last several hours. His eyes seem to be looking over her in turn, taking in her falling braid and bright eyes. They’re both quiet for some time until she murmurs, “I see you.”

 

Levi blinks, taken aback, before he rubs his thumbs where his hands on her shoulders, replying in the same low voice, “And I see you.”

 

The horse whinnies, breaking their attention on each other. Historia looks at the horse, patting him on the neck affectionately. “You can rest here if you’d like. There’s feed in the barn,” she tells Levi.

 

“I may let him rest for a moment before I head out.”

 

Historia rolls her eyes and turns back to Levi, who is unimpressed with her exasperation. “I meant you, Levi.”

 

He smirks. “I’ll rest soon enough. Off to bed with you.” Historia waves off his dismissal with a smile, turning on her heel to start up the porch and toward the front door. She stops short when Levi speaks up again. “Krista,” she looks back at him as he says, “thank you for tonight.”

 

She wants to ask him to stay, to indulge her tired mind with more hidden facts about himself, but she just says instead, “Good night, Levi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will likely not update this coming week, as i'm going out of town to visit my sister-in-law and little nephews. i'll write when i can but i'll be focused on family time, so this next time you can expect an update within two weeks.
> 
> let me know your thoughts! your comments make my day <3
> 
> much love


	4. hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More confusion for Historia. Friends meet. The good Doctor carries news for Historia. Shit begins to hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi friends! i apologize for the delayed update. i got kind of stuck with how to construct this and pull everything together.
> 
> but here we are! i had fun piecing things together once i got the ball rolling.
> 
> enjoy!

The day after the gala, Historia goes into town with Sasha and Reiner to get food for the next few days. Historia holds their woven basket that is full of vegetables, filtering out what Sasha eagerly adds to it.

 

“I know you’re the better cook so you’re planning meals already, but you need to think about how much this is costing us,” Historia chastises her friend. “We don’t have enough for this whole basket.”

 

“Nonsense,” Reiner waves off Historia’s words. “I’ll take care of it. I’m great at haggling.”

 

He walks off to find the owner of the shop, who’s busy organizing an array of fruit. Sasha wants to watch, but Historia pulls her away, wondering exactly how Reiner will manage to haggle down the price. She puts it out of mind when Sasha takes their moment away from him to suddenly blurt out, “I met a man.”

 

Historia blinks in surprise, caught off guard. “Oh?”

 

“Yes!” Sasha’s shoulders sag with relief like this has been weighing on her. “That’s why I wanted to come with you and Reiner so badly. His name is Connie.”

 

“How did you meet him?” Historia asks curiously. Sasha lights up, her whole demeanor shifting; Historia has seen Sasha excited before, but this newfound giddiness is different.

 

“I was in the market, and I was looking at some meat—the butcher had fabulous cuts out—and we went for the same piece! We were talking casually and when he paid I didn’t want to just _leave_ , so we walked around for a bit before I went back home,” Sasha explains. “He’s a tailor’s son, so’s apprenticing in his father’s shop. He’s your age, so a few months younger than me, but he’s just hysterically funny,” she gushes. Historia smiles as her friend babbles on about her infatuation, telling her every possible detail down to his shoes and his corny jokes. When Sasha stops talking, Historia shakes her head to focus again.

 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 

“I asked if you’re getting on well with Levi,” Sasha repeats. “He’s come by a few times and you’ve gone off with him for a night.”

 

“Oh,” Historia scrambles to find what to tell Sasha. “I suppose so. He’s a hard man to read, but he’s...kind, in his own way.”

 

“Has he kissed you?” Sasha inquires in a hushed voice, her amber eyes going round. When Historia sputters with a flushed face, Sasha adds, “Connie’s kissed me!”

 

Historia’s cheeks burn as she thinks about the night of the gala when Levi kissed her. It was all for show, to continue their charade as a couple attending an event together. As much as the kiss confused her about his intentions, she can’t lie to Sasha. “Yes,” she whispers.

 

Sasha squeals in excitement. As Historia tries to quiet the brunette, Reiner comes back with a proud grin. “The food is on the house!” he boasts. This only feeds Sasha’s elation, which Reiner encourages. When Historia glares at him, he winks at her. “Thank the Captain for that one,” he says quietly when Sasha is out of earshot as they start to walk back into town square to figure out where to go next.

 

Historia wonders if she’ll actually get to thank Levi in person, but she stops that train of thought quickly. The less attached she is to that man, the better, she decides.

 

As if summoned, he steps out from an alleyway, looking sharp dressed in his typical dress shirt and pants. Historia notices Reiner twitch as if to salute Levi, but catches himself partway through. Sasha is oblivious to Reiner, only perking up more when she sees Levi. “Oh! What a coincidence that we ran into you, Levi, we were _just_ talking about you,” she looks at Historia pointedly with a coy smile before turning back to him.

 

He pretends to look surprised, but with the way his silver gaze is focused on Historia, she knows better. “Fancy running into you lot here. Can I borrow Krista for a moment?”

 

“Take her as long as you need,” Sasha drawls as she takes the basket of produce from Historia. “We’ll be stopping by the baker for bread and goods. Come find us there when you’re done!” she teases, dragging Reiner away with her.

 

Historia bites her lip nervously when Levi’s face drops back to his normal bored expression, offering his arm out to her. “Walk with me.” Knowing Levi isn’t asking, Historia falls into step with him easily as she puts her hand on his bicep, looking the part of a couple. “I wanted to apologize again for how things went at the gala. I should’ve remembered that you’re not a Scout, and that you’re doing me a favor,” he concedes in a low voice.

 

They turn the corner down the alley. If she were with anyone else she’d be concerned, but she thinks nothing of it. “All’s forgiven,” she assures him. “But I’m sure you didn’t come find me just to apologize again.”

 

His gaze meets hers, a storm hidden within his dark irises. “Something’s coming.” He furrows his brow as he speaks. “I don’t know when, but the MPs are moving. I’m worried it may be nobility just stirring the pot, but with Erwin being in this town, I’m wondering just what they’re planning. I need to find a way to communicate with him without compromising anyone.” Levi is unsettled, and it makes Historia anxious; Levi does not get unsettled.

 

Yet, she can’t figure out one piece amidst all of his planning. “Why are you going to such lengths to protect me? You hardly know me.”

 

Levi breaks stride, quickly making her stumble backward until her back is against the wall, his arms on either side of her. She feels her breath catch in her throat, but when she tries to reorient herself, she realizes that they would look like a couple who snuck off to be alone for a moment of intimacy. Her suspicion is confirmed when Levi brushes hair away from her face with his hand, his touch featherlight despite the deep frown on his lips. “There’s something about you that’s important in all this,” he ponders. “You show up during one of our raids practically tied up with a bow, and then everything begins to move after that night. Erwin fucking Smith trusts you. And then MPs are stirring from their lazy slumber into an actual organized group?” Levi’s eyes narrow as he lowers his hand to her neck, threading his fingers in her hair at the base of her head. “You’re hiding something.”

 

Historia swallows a lump in her throat as she tries to keep her cool. “You know my secret,” she reminds him quietly.

 

His eyes become clear again, his expression softening as he avoids her gaze. “You draw me in each time,” he confesses in a voice so soft, she almost can’t hear him. “I can’t figure it out.”

 

She wants to divulge into that more, to finally pry apart the hard exterior that seems to be cracking around her when they’re alone. She hears Sasha’s familiar laugh from around the corner, though, and her eyes widen when Levi tenses up in response to the sound. Without thinking, she grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks him forward, her lips meeting his at a bruising force. His hold in her hair tightens as he inhales through his nose, quick to part his lips to taste hers. Her hands move from his collar to cup his face, her thumbs running over his sharp cheekbones. The stone of the wall digs into her back but she doesn’t mind since he slips a hand to the small of her back, his slender fingers gripping the fabric of her blouse as he deepens the kiss.

 

“Maybe they’re over here, Reiner—oh!” Sasha exclaims, startling Historia. Levi breaks their kiss, his cheeks tinged pink. Historia feels her own face heat up when his eyes linger on her lips before he takes a step back, fixing his collar while Historia turns to face Sasha and Reiner. Sasha looks smug while Reiner is torn between amusement and second-hand embarrassment of catching his boss making out like a teenager. “Are we interrupting?” Sasha asks in a pseudo-surprised voice.

 

“Er—I mean—“ Historia stammers.

 

“Not at all,” Levi saves her the trouble. “I was just saying my goodbyes.” He leans in close to her, and while it looks like another moment to be close to her to Sasha and possibly Reiner, Historia knows it’s not the case. His breath is hot on her ear when he murmurs, “I’ll be sending someone for you when things start to go south. The brats will be safe, but you’ll need to be removed when everything goes down.”

  
Historia just hums in acknowledgement, looking up at him when he moves back. He gives her a nod of dismissal, glancing at Reiner to do the same before heading off around the corner.

 

She doesn’t hear the end of it from Sasha or Reiner the entire trip back.

 

* * *

 

When they return from the market, they’re all swarmed by the children. Krista wrangles the smallest children and leads them outside in the fields out back, declaring it playtime.

 

A knock at the front door makes Jean head over, opening it to greet whoever it outside. Eren is before him, smiling widely as he greets Jean. “Hello! Is Krista around?” Jean just has his mouth agape as he stutters, his eyes focused on Mikasa beside Eren. The elder Yeager sibling grows irritated as he repeats his question. When he doesn’t get an answer again, he asks, “Is there a brain in that horse head of yours?”

 

Jean regains his composure as he’s torn between calling for Historia and punching Eren in the face, but he’s saved when Reiner puts his hands on Jean’s shoulders to try and calm him down. Reiner smiles at the Yeager siblings, saying, “Come on through! Krista is around out back with the small kids.”

 

Eren and Jean glare at each other as Eren and Mikasa pass through, Mikasa uttering a quiet “Thank you.” to Reiner. They all find Historia in the field out back with Bertholdt, keeping an eye on the younger children frolicking and playing. When Lucas spots the newcomers, he bolts over to Eren and Mikasa with a wide grin.

 

“Eren! Mikasa!” he exclaims, pointing to his nose as he looks up at them. “Look! I have a cool scar now!”

 

“Wow!” Eren remarks with exaggerated wonder as he squats down to get on Lucas’ level, examining the boy’s nose.

 

“Bertholdt says it the mark of a warrior,” Lucas tells them proudly. Eren’s eyes shift to Bertholdt curiously, Mikasa’s narrowing with uncertainty.

 

Bertholdt gives a nervous smile to the siblings. “Hi, I’m Bertholdt. Reiner and I weren’t here last time you guys came. We’re helping out now, too.”

 

Mikasa’s tension ebbs and Eren brightens up considerably. “Hopefully you’re more useful than that idiot in there.”

 

Everyone chuckles except for Jean, who overhears Eren as he comes out from the house. “Hey! Watch who you’re calling an idiot, you bastard!”

 

Eren straightens his posture as he tries to match Jean’s height, his emerald eyes aflame with challenge. They shout obscenities at each other in increasingly loud volumes before Mikasa picks up Eren and Bertholdt pulls Jean by the arm to separate the two.

 

Naturally, one of the girls who’s seven years old, Mia, looks at Historia with a confused expression. “Krista, what’s a bastard?”

 

“Nothing you should be worried about at your age,” Historia quickly diverts the question. “How about we play a game?”

 

Recovering from the almost-brawl, they play with the children until the sun begins to set and Reiner announces that supper is ready.

 

“Want to stay for a meal?” Historia offers the Yeager siblings.

 

Eren waves her off kindly. “Nah, we’ll head home for supper. Maybe we can do a quick spar before we leave?”

 

“Yeah!” Historia nods eagerly. “I’d like that.”

 

Mikasa takes her on first, bending her knees slightly as she gets into her offensive stance. Historia is surveying Mikasa’s footing when she’s charged quickly, the world flipping upside down as she lands on her back. “Remember your own footing, not just mine,” Mikasa reminds her gently.

 

They are interrupted by the sound of horse hooves pounding; Grisha Yeager pulls on the reigns to make the horse rear on its hind legs to stop. Eren and Mikasa approach him instantly, but he looks past them at Historia with wild eyes. Her gut twists in a knot as Levi’s words echo in her mind. _Something’s coming_.

 

“You need to come with me,” Grisha tells her urgently. “There’s people looking for you. They’re going to come here.”

 

“Who?” Historia asks, but Grisha ignores her to address his children.

 

“You two need to stay here. Don’t come back home until the morning, do you understand?” He commands them.

 

“Dad, what’s going on?” Eren is bewildered, and Mikasa looks ready to fight despite her wide gray eyes. “Are you in trouble?”

 

“No, but she will be if she’s found,” Grisha tells them, gesturing to Historia. “I’ll bring you home tomorrow when it’s safe.”

 

“And the children?” Mikasa interjects.

 

“They’re safe as long as Krista is not here,” Grisha reiterates. “Are Reiner and Bertholdt here?” When Mikasa nods, he says, “Tell them to be on guard. There will be visitors. If anyone asks, Krista went back into town but no one knew why. Krista, we need to go now.”

 

“Ah—okay.” She turns to Mikasa and Eren, her eyes filled with worry. “Please look after everyone.”

 

“You have our word,” Eren promises.

 

“Thank you.” She looks between the pair and then to Grisha, who holds his hand out for her to take. She reluctantly does, hoisting herself up onto the saddle behind him. Without another word, he spurs the horse into a gallop with a sharp kick of his heels.

 

Once they’re into an even stride, Grisha finally speaks. “I know that your name isn’t Krista. You’re Historia Reiss,” he says just loud enough to be sure she hears.

 

Historia feels her whole body tense and her stomach sink. The world spins unpleasantly and her chest tightens with panic. “How?” is all she can ask.

 

“I treated you as a child. You had that fever that was sweeping through the capitol and claiming lives left and right,” he explains. “I thought I recognized you the first time you were on my doorstep but I couldn’t be sure. When I found out you were connected to Levi that threw me off, but when I caught wind that there’s high nobility here looking for the princess then I was able to put all the pieces together.”

 

She can’t find her voice to respond.

 

“I’m not going to turn you in,” he assures her. “I heard that shortly after the king announced your engagement, you went missing. I knew you weren’t dead if they’re still looking after all this time, and I don’t believe an engagement is enough to make you run. I know there’s more to the story, but we don’t have time for that.” He looks over his shoulder at her, a calm smile in place. “I promise to keep you safe, Historia. I swore to do no harm as a doctor and I will keep that oath with you, princess or runaway.”

 

Historia wants to break down and sob from how overwhelmed she is by his kindness, but she knows better than to draw attention to herself. She instead takes a deep breath to steady herself. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

When they arrive after night falls, Grisha ushers her inside hurriedly. He ties up his horse haphazardly before getting inside, twisting the multiple locks on the door. Historia’s body is buzzing with energy, not sure if she can let herself panic yet. Grisha walks to the back of the room, feeling the floorboards before prying one up roughly by the edge, revealing a door to a crawl space.

 

“You should be able to sit in here. They’ll be here any minute, and I can’t guarantee they won’t come back a second time when they think I drop my guard,” Grisha informs her as she drops in. She is able to sit with her knees to her chest, just barely fitting in the small space. “I used to hide valuables in here, but luckily you’re small enough to fit,” he remarks with a chuckle as he looks down at her, holding up the door. The light jest makes her laugh despite the situation. Grisha’s eyes focus as his smile begins to fall, determination filling them in a way that reminds her of Eren. “You’ll need to be silent if anyone comes in. I don’t know who to trust until morning comes.”

 

“I understand,” Historia affirms. “Thank you again. You didn’t have to do this.”

 

“Of course I do. You’re the princess, after all,” he huffs with a smile. “I’m going to latch the door here. It will just look like a floorboard, and the fabric nailed to the underside here should prevent it from sounding like an open space.” Grisha points to the fabric before tapping on the top for good measure. “You’ll be safe here.”

 

With that, he lowers the door, leaving Historia alone with her thoughts in the darkness. The dust makes it harder to breathe, but not impossibly so. She tries to distract herself with thoughts of anything—the orphanage, the children, her friends.

 

She ends up just feeling guilty for bringing all this danger in their lives simply by being there. She wonders if it will become time to move on if this night is too close to her being caught. It would make her heart ache to leave, but when she thinks of the innocent faces of the children, she finds resolve. She isn’t sure where to go—then a thought crosses her mind that makes her heart race.

 

She could ask Levi for help relocating. It would come with a condition, probably, but she would accept if it meant everyone’s safety. But to live in a city where she wouldn’t see Levi again...melancholy grips her coldly at the possibility. She doesn’t even know him very well, yet she has an attraction to him that she can’t deny.

 

 _It’s all because he kissed you,_ she tells herself. _He’s the only man to kiss you, and you enjoyed it too much._

 

Thinking of that kiss makes her want to squeeze her thighs together. Such a fleeting moment only to be interrupted by none other than Erwin, and another by her friends. Historia chews on her lip when she recalls Erwin’s approval of Levi, even though she knew better. He always looked at her fondly, went out of his way for her, and even risked his life in helping her run away from her life as a princess.

 

She sighs. _What a mess I’ve made_.

 

Historia straightens up instantly when she hears banging and shouting. She hears what she imagines is the door being pounded on by Military Police, and Grisha opens it for them. “Is there somebody injured, gentlemen?”

 

“No,” a gruff voice snaps. “We’re here to search for the Princess.”

 

“The Princess? It’s just me here. I would report if I’ve seen her immediately,” Grisha tells them. Historia covers her mouth with her hands, breathing through her nose as she listens with terror building inside her.

 

“We know you’ve seen the Princess. Maybe you’re even hiding her,” another voice accuses, higher in pitch. “Turn the place upside down.”

 

They sound like they’re tearing the place apart, which they likely are from what she can tell. Glass shatters, heavy items fall on the ground, and she imagines they’re leaving Grisha’s workspace in a complete disarray when they finish. The first man shouts in frustration when they finish. “This is bullshit!” he curses. “We’ll report back. This was a waste of time.” There’s a pause before Grisha groans in pain. “Don’t go anywhere, Doctor, or we’ll know it.”

 

Grisha falls in a heap on the floor near Historia, making her jump at the loud noise. She wants to see if he’s okay but knows better, remembering that he said that they could come back. She squeezes her eyes shut to hold back tears. _I’m sorry._

 

She loses track of time as she listens to Grisha clean up the mess. She hears glass being cleaned away, items moved back into place, but he doesn’t say a word to her, only muttering to himself as he picks up the pieces of his workspace. She gasps quietly, her hands flying to her mouth to muffle the sound when another bang echoes in the room, followed by the sound of the door whipping open.

 

“You already searched my home!” Grisha fumes at the intrusion. Historia feels her body shake with horror and her heart pound wildly in her chest when she hears calm footsteps and a far too familiar voice speaks evenly.

 

“Yes, father, but _I_ haven’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dunnn!
> 
> who could it be?!
> 
> y'all already know, probably. but next update will be packed!! let me know your thoughts about who's coming to fuck everything up, and how historia will make it out of this one!
> 
> much love


	5. beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The son arrives. Levi and Historia connect.

 

 _“Yes father, but_ I _haven’t.”_

 

Historia feels her whole world shatter when she hears his voice. She feels petrified, tears falling silently down her cheeks as she struggles to keep her composure. The only thing that keeps her from giving away her location is the idea of having to go back with him.

 

“Zeke, why are you here?”

 

Grisha’s question hangs unanswered in the air as she hears Zeke walk around the room slowly, purposefully. The even steps of the heel of his shoes meeting the floor ring in her ears. Dread builds in her, keeping her frozen and her throat too dry to make a sound even if she tried.

 

“I wanted to personally see to your home being turned over,” Zeke begins. “I know you are excel in deception and trickery, so I wanted to ensure that you’re not hiding anything.” There’s a pause, and then something fragile shatters on the floor. “I can’t afford to have my own father be the one who withholds the key to my future. What kind of king would I be?”

 

“K-King?” Grisha stammers. “But—“

 

“Yes, yes, Rod Reiss is still alive, but so is his bastard daughter,” Zeke affirms irritably. “I need to marry Her Highness so that I can assume the throne. I know you aren’t stupid, so you knew I am her betrothed.”

 

“Was. She ran away from the crown—everyone knows that.”

 

“When I find her—and I _will_ find her—I’ll force that crown on her pretty little head myself,” Zeke growls menacingly. “I am not going to have what I’ve worked years for be stolen away by some girl who doesn’t know her place!”

 

There’s a thump and a loud groan from Grisha, followed by coughing. Historia flinches when she hears him hit the floor near her. Her core tightens in alarm when Grisha’s breathing comes in heavy winds.

 

“I failed you, son,” Grisha whimpers. “I’m sorry.”

 

Zeke barks out a cruel laugh. “You failed me the moment you hid my prize from me. For that, you’ll be punished.”

 

“You can’t imprison me—I have patients, Zeke—innocent people—“ Grisha is cut off by a loud smack.

 

“When I’m King, you’ll wish for a sentence as merciful as imprisonment.”

 

The other men move, sounding incredibly close as they move toward Grisha. The sounds of Grisha getting beaten echo in her ears, accompanied by the footsteps of others rushing around and probably picking apart the building once again. Zeke’s voice cuts through her as he stands directly above her, menacing as he orders his men. “Leave nothing untouched. We’re not leaving until we find her.”

 

Historia’s hands tingle and her head spins in the darkness, panic consuming her.

 

* * *

 

_“Father, I don’t want to be married—I don’t even know him—“ she protests in a hushed voice._

 

_Rod Reiss grimaces, placing his hands firmly on Historia’s shoulders. The rough grip startles her enough to stop talking. His eyes bore into hers, showing no signs of giving. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, Historia,” he chastises. “There are rebellions building against me—against us. Zeke is a man of the people. If you marry him, we can rebuild the image of the royal family. We can keep peace,” he implores._

 

_“But he’s the Battle Chief,” she argues. “What does he know about peace?”_

 

_“This is not up for discussion,” he bellows harshly. “You are marrying him, and that’s final. Once you produce an heir, you don’t even have to be around him except for public events,” he tries to offer her a bright side that looks even bleaker than before._

 

_Her eyes are round as she looks up at her father, horrified at the idea of a life she’s meant to live. She knows she can’t find the words to make him understand because his mind is clearly already made up. When he takes her hand to lead her to the library, she feels a weight lay heavy on her chest that makes it hard to breathe. Her limbs feel numb, barely able to feel her father guide her down the balls. She hears the soft words he says to her but she isn’t able to process any of them—strong man and proven his worth is all she catches—and she wonders if she did the same she wouldn’t have to follow through with this plan._

 

_When they enter the library, her gaze skims the room, falling on the man clearly in charge as he lounges in an armchair with a book—one of Historia’s favorites—open as he turns a page. He looks up when the door opens, calmly getting to his feet as one of his comrades straightens and bows, gesturing a hand to the blonde._

 

_“Your Majesty, Your Highness, I present to you, Zeke Yeager.”_

 

_Zeke bows as they approach, then taking Rod’s hand in a firm, friendly handshake. “Your Majesty,” he greets._

 

 _“Zeke, I’m elated to_ finally _introduce my daughter to you,” Rod beams. Historia’s core feels hollowed out when she extends her hand to him. “This is my pride and joy, Princess Historia.” Not only does he bow to her as well, but he gets on a knee, delicately holding her hand as he kisses her knuckle. He raises his head to look at her after, still on his knee. His eyes are pale like ice, previously hidden behind the shine of his glasses when he kissed her knuckle._

 

_“It’s an honor to meet you, Princess.” Zeke’s voice is warm, but the way his smile is crooked makes her queasy. He gets back on his feet, still holding her hand. She wants to yank it back, but that would be rude, and she’s in front of her father._

 

_“Oh, let’s drop the formalities here,” Rod chortles. “You two are to be married, after all!”_

 

_Hearing the words aloud makes her taste bile. Zeke has the decency to look sheepish, letting go of her hand as he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought we’d wait to talk business, Your Majesty.”_

 

Business.

 

_This is all just business._

 

_Historia wants to cry, but it’s not proper. Her lifetime of maintaining proper etiquette keeps her from breaking. She misses what her father and Zeke are saying while she focuses on trying to keep her composure, at least until Zeke touches her again. It’s a simple hand to her arm, but her skin burns where he touches her._

 

_“I understand this must be overwhelming for you,” his voice is warm, but his eyes glint with hidden intent. “But I hope you know that I’m very much looking forward to our arrangement.”_

 

_She thought she wanted to crawl out of her skin then; s_ _he had no idea what kind of beast she was promised to marry._

 

* * *

 

“Krista!”

 

Light floods her vision as the door to her hiding space is yanked up, morning sun streaming in from the front door and shattered windows. She rubs her eyes to try and get her eyes to focus, and when they finally do, she could weep with relief.

 

“Levi,” she breathes.

 

His eyes are dark with fury while he extends his hand to her. “Did they touch you? Are you hurt?”

 

“N-No.” She takes his hand, grunting as she tries to pull herself up. Levi hauls her out easily, and she takes a deep breath of clear air as she’s on her knees, wondering how she didn’t outright pass out in the crawl space.

 

“Can you stand?”

 

“Yeah,” she nods, taking a moment to get steady on her feet. Levi’s expression softens for a brief moment when she looks at him grimly. “They took Dr. Yeager.”

 

Levi’s nostrils flare and he clenches his jaw, a cloud of emotions in his eyes. He seems like he’s ready to hurt the next person that looks at him the wrong way.

 

“Big Bro!” a woman’s voice calls from outside.

 

Levi whips around, and Historia thinks he may actually hurt the woman until she recognizes the wild red hair. “Isabel!” Historia blurts out when Isabel approaches Levi, unfazed by his murderous demeanor.

 

“You’re the girl from the cellar! Just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Isabel teases. “Or maybe it’s just Levi that brings the trouble to you.”

 

“If you two don’t mind, this isn’t the place to stay and chat,” Levi scolds them. Isabel rolls her eyes but shrugs off her cloak, handing it over to Historia.

 

“You’ll need to hide as best you can,” Isabel explains. Historia nods as she flips the hood over her head, falling just above her eyes.

 

“Come on,” Levi grunts. “We’re taking my horse.” Isabel takes the cue and rushes to go ready the horse. He begins to walk outside, but Historia grabs his shirt sleeve in an attempt to get his attention.

 

Without thinking, overcome with emotions, she blurts out, “I need to talk to you before we go.”

 

“Wait until we’re somewhere else.”

 

“Listen—I’m not who you think I am—“ she tries to explain, but he cuts her off and grips her shoulders roughly.

 

“Shut up,” he scowls. “We don’t have time for heartfelt confessions right now.”

 

Her heart hammers away, her conscience betraying her. If he won’t listen, then she decides that it’s not the time. She can’t afford to lose him; she’s lost too much, and possibly more, depending on how the near future plays out.

 

He helps her onto his horse even though she doesn’t need the help. She holds onto him tightly as he leads them somewhere safe to stay, trying to distract herself with anything other than her truth.

 

* * *

 

They hide at an inn.

 

On the edge of the town, there’s an inn that’s already been ransacked by the Military Police in search for the missing princess. Levi pays the woman at the front a fat sack of coins to give them a room and pretend that she’s never seen them. She simply took the money and left behind a key on the desk wordlessly.

 

There’s a small fireplace, so Levi works on starting a weak fire. “Take a bath,” he gestures to the washroom. “I’ll follow suit when you’re done.”

 

Historia doesn’t need to be told twice when he hands her a change of clothes.

 

She scrubs herself clean until her skin is red and angry, nearly rubbed raw with how much she’s determined to wipe away any traces of the day. Even if Zeke didn’t lay eyes on her or touch her, she feels filthy being in the same room as him. She feels responsible for Grisha’s imprisonment, knowing he would be safe if he hadn’t hidden her from his own son. She feels guilty knowing that Mikasa and Eren won’t have a safe home to go to while Zeke is on the hunt for her, being so very close on her trail. Her fingers are pruned and the water runs cool, but she still rubs a rag along her arms, scrubbing for a fourth time. There’s hardly any suds on the rag when Levi’s voice from the other side of the door makes her nearly jump out of her skin.

 

“Oi. Did you drown in there?”

 

“I’ll be out in a moment,” she says apologetically. She changes into clothes he gave her—they must be his, she assumes. The shirt is a short-sleeved shirt that’s a little too big on her, the white fabric contrasting harshly with her skin that’s still red from her aggressive cleaning. The shorts are gray, falling above her knees. She feels awkward when she reenters the room, suddenly hyperaware of how small she feels. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

 

Levi doesn’t say anything right away, his eyes honing in on her arms. As he passes her to draw his own bath, he pauses to lift one of her arms with both of his hands. He trails his fingers along the painful red streaks, his skin cool against the irritated skin.

 

“I couldn’t get clean,” Historia suddenly tries to explain pathetically.

 

He cocks an eyebrow in disbelief at her words, looking at her pointedly. Her eyebrows pull together in frustrated embarrassment as she pulls her arm away abruptly. When she goes to sit on the bed, he disappears to bathe.

 

He takes less time than her, but she notices that his skin is pink from where his long-sleeves inch up on his arms. Guilt creeps into her chest for her withdrawal from him before, but neither comment on it.

 

“So what were you trying to tell me earlier?” Levi asks her quietly, standing by the fireplace. The fire is dwindling, but the room is warm from it burning for a while.

 

Historia debates telling the whole truth; she settles for a partial truth, too tired to think about what would happen if she admitted who she really was. “You were mostly right about me. I come from a, uh, noble family, and I was supposed to be married off.” She sighs, exhaustion making her shoulders slump as she draws her knees to her chest. “But it wasn’t that simple. I didn’t want to marry him. He was so vile. I overheard him one night when I was going to the kitchen for water,” she shakes her head, wishing she could forget what she heard. “He was talking about me. I was expected to bear him a son, and then he would dispose of me.” Her nose pinches in distaste. “I feel like my skin crawls just thinking about everything. I don’t know if I’ll ever escape that.” Levi regards her silently, listening intently. She heaves another sigh of defeat. “I’m just so afraid of being caught,” she whispers, hugging her knees closer to her chest. Levi observes her thoughtfully from his spot by the hearth, his gray eyes reflecting the small flames. She averts her gaze to the dying fire, resting her chin on her knee. “You must think I’m so childish,” she remarks bitterly.

 

“No.” He shakes his head as he slowly approaches her, the bed dipping beside her when he sits. He’s a few inches away, but she can feel the warmth of his body. She avoids looking at his face, focusing instead on other parts of him—the slight stubble on his chin, his collarbone that she can see from the low neckline of his shirt, the scars on his hands.

 

“I ran away from a life that kept me well off,” she says, knowing it’s an understatement. “I wanted for nothing. I was always taken care of. I...” she takes a deep breath as her voice quivers. Her vision blurs as she tries to hold in her tears.

 

“Look at me, Krista.”

 

She obliges, lifting her head as she does so. Levi’s eyes are clouded, but fixed on hers.

 

“You were wealthy, but not well off. Not living _better_. You were about to be married off and bred like livestock,” Levi states, ending the sentence with a disgusted tone. “That’s not a life you should live.”

 

She bites on her lower lip, already sore from her worrying it throughout the day. His eyes follow the action and he reaches toward her, gently catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’ll be bleeding soon if you keep that up,” he comments. Her cheeks flush red, only burning deeper when he doesn’t let her go. He adjusts his hold so he can reach up and run his thumb along her lower lip, making her poor heart race. “You’ve chewed yourself raw.”

 

Historia hates how he unravels her and sees through her with no effort, yet missing the biggest aspect of all.

 

“Why are you pouting?” Levi asks, a hint of teasing in his voice as he removes his hand.

 

She furrows her brow as she huffs. “I’m not pouting. I’m just exhausted.”

 

Levi’s lips curl up at her lie, but he doesn’t call her out on it. He jerks his chin in the direction of the head of the bed. “Lay down, then. And scoot over. I’m not about to fall off the bed in my sleep because you hog the space.” Historia laughs as she moves up, getting under the thin sheet. She faces the wall, not missing that Levi is closer to the door or that he tucks a knife under his pillow. She doesn’t say anything on it, instead turning to look at him. He glares at her. “Don’t tell me you snore or some weird shit like that.”

 

“No,” she chuckles. “I just wanted to thank you for everything. You’ve...you’ve kept me safe.”

 

Levi’s blinks once, twice as his cheeks tinge pink. He rolls over, facing away from her as he grumbles, “Go to sleep, Krista.”

 

She smiles as she turns to face the wall, warmth spreading pleasantly in her core.

  

Despite this, she hardly sleeps.

 

Historia hears Zeke’s voice in her sleep, Grisha’s painful groans, and the shattering of items while she’s cloaked in darkness. She sees her father’s disappointed face and blood spattered on the ground.

 

She awakes in a hazy whirl, frightened and sobbing.

 

Callused hands are on her arms, pulling her into an embrace. “Krista, it’s okay,” a deep voice tells her. “You’re here with me. We’re okay.”

 

Historia can hear Levi’s heartbeat slowing down as she comes out of her daze. Her tears make his shirt wet, but he doesn’t comment on it. He just breathes deeply, his chin atop the crown of her head. His arms are around her, and she’s aware of his strength when he gives her a comforting squeeze. His hands rub circles in her back, his deadly hands offering solace. When her grip on his shirt begins to loosen, he adjusts, pressing his lips to her forehead tenderly.

 

“I’m frightened,” she confesses. He moves so she’s tucked against his neck, able to breathe in the smell of his soap. “I can’t even get away in my dreams.”

 

Levi is slow to respond, contemplating her words. He sighs, holding her tighter. “One day, you will.”

 

He lets go, his hands falling from her. In the darkness, she can’t see him, but she still feels him move to lay back down. She does the same hesitantly, her stomach full of butterflies as he turns away. “Levi,” she begins.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can you...can you—“ she can’t find the words to ask, too embarrassed to finish her question.

 

Levi already understands, though, and she feels his arms slide around her waist, pulling her against him. When his chest meets her back, she wonders if he can feel her heart pound. After a moment, she feels his breath on the back of her neck. She wants to thank him, but she doesn’twant to make him retreat.

 

She finally sleeps, held peacefully in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys are enjoying yourselves!! i'm having fun writing this as it's different than my usual works
> 
> i don't always like having zeke be the bad guy but sometimes it just works, you know?
> 
> let me know your thoughts if you have any! i love knowing what you guys are thinking about this. see y'all in the next chapter. 8)
> 
> much love


	6. masked figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia dreams. Levi and her seek a new safe place to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may or may not have been inspired mildly by phantom of the opera for the beginning scene lol
> 
> hope y'all enjoy! <3

 

_It’s the night of the masquerade ball._

 

_There’s a grand celebration in honor of the engagement of the princess, all organized by the King and his Court._

 

_She hates every aspect of it._

 

_She stares in the grand mirror, unable to recognize herself. Her dress is white, decorated intricately with pink lace, hitting just above her ankles, showing off the small heels that she’s meant to be able dance in. Her hair is done up ornately, a ribbon of white lace woven into her braid. Her mask hides the top half of her face, small precious stones along the edges of the mask. She shifts her weight from one foot to another, grimacing._

 

_The leather of the heels are already digging unpleasantly into her feet._

 

_“Your Highness,” a butler knocks on her door, making her jump._

 

_“Come in,” she calls._

 

_He opens the door, bowing his head respectfully as he relays to her, “Your father is looking for you, Historia.”_

 

_Taking a deep breath, Historia nods, biting her lip so she doesn’t let any tears fall. “Thank you, Nicholas. Please take me to him.”_

 

_Once she enters the ballroom, she’s overwhelmed by the grandeur of everything. She’s attended events before, but this screams too much to her, making her chest tighten. She feels like she might faint, like she can’t breathe, barely able to focus when she feels her father’s large hand on her shoulder._

 

_“My lovely daughter!” Rod exclaims, his face rosy, telling of the several drinks he’s had already. “Historia, I’m so glad you’re here.” He turns, whistling loudly to silence the hall. The noise quiets, and he bellows to the room, “Ladies and gentlemen! Your future queen!”_

 

_Historia’s stomach drops with dread as the ballroom explodes in cheers and joyful shouts. Her breathing grows uneven as the noise is deafening, turning into a low roar in her ears. Her father begins saying something that she doesn’t listen to, her mind swimming._

 

_“Historia.”_

 

_A gentle voice snaps her out of her fog, her vision focusing on a man._

 

_“Zeke,” Historia says breathily as if she’s run a distance._

 

_He smiles broadly at her, looking down at her. “You’re a sight, Historia.” He bows to her, taking her hand in his as he kisses her knuckles. She feels her skin burn at the touch, but it’s keeping her present in reality, so she lets him hold her hand. “Will you dance with me?”_

 

_Historia can’t find the words to say no with her father standing beside her, so she just nods her head._

 

_Zeke guides her to the center of the room. He bows to her, holding her hand still, and she courtesies in return, moving without thinking. She follows his lead, her feet moving instinctively, one hand in his and another on his shoulder. She twirls when she must, lets him dip her when appropriate. Her eyes are glassy but she refuses to cry, willing herself to be numb to the night._

 

_“Is my company really that awful?” Zeke asks her._

 

_She blinks, looking up at him in bewilderment before recovering quickly. “Oh—It’s not that—“ she tries to reassure him with a smile, and she’s thankful that her mask hides that her smile doesn’t reach her eyes._

 

_“This is overwhelming, I understand,” Zeke finishes for her. She cocks her head, nearly missing a step. “I’m not used to this, Historia. I’m as out of my element as you are.”_

 

_She processes, unable to believe it. Does he not want this either?_

 

_“I didn’t exactly volunteer for our…arrangement,” he says slowly, choosing his words carefully. “However, I have a duty to my people. So I’m trying to take this in stride as best I can.”_

 

_Historia forgets that the next move in their dance is a twirl, and she stumbles over herself, her feet aching painfully, and she nearly hits the ground. Zeke is quick to catch her, righting her easily. His hands on her waist don’t feel real, nor his hand on the small of her back as she gets steady on her feet. He gives her a moment before leading her again. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes quietly so only he can hear her. Zeke is quiet as he thinks over something, and he breaks their dance to lead her to the side. He stops a passing server to take a glass of wine, handing it to her without second thought._

 

_“Drink. It’ll help with the nerves,” he tells her gently. She does so, wincing as she steps aside for someone passing by. “Is it sour? I can get another.”_

 

_“No,” she shakes her head, pulling a face. “It’s silly. It’s my shoes, they’re honestly quite terrible.”_

 

_Zeke shrugs. “Then take them off.”_

 

_Historia can’t fathom the idea, nearly dropping her glass. “My father would have a fit—I’m the King’s daughter—“_

 

_“Exactly,” Zeke grins as he gets to a knee. “You’re the princess. Use that privilege.” He slowly lifts her skirt just enough so that he can begin to remove her shoes, making a face when he realizes how tight they are on her. When he has them both off, Historia almost moans at the feeling of the cool floor on her feet. Instead, she sighs in relief. Zeke chuckles as he shows her the shoes. “Your feet are beginning to bleed, Historia,” he points at the red flecks on the inside of the leather. “These really are dreadful.” He hides them under a table, and the gesture makes her smile genuinely at him._

 

_She lets him keep her company the remainder of the night, and she begins to warm up to him. Zeke is definitely not the man she dreamed of marrying, but his good nature and warm smile make it hard to keep him at arm’s length for too long. He manages to fit in with the nobility, and her father is beyond ecstatic that she’s actually happy around him._

 

_When he excuses himself to talk to a comrade of his, she actually feels herself become a little disappointed at his absence._

 

_Perhaps Zeke isn’t a terrible man to marry. She can learn to love him, and if he can handle the royalty aspect that she doesn’t care to deal with, then it could be an even exchange. She gets out from under her father’s thumb, and he becomes King. The trade seems fair._

 

_What’s taking him so long? she wonders. She seeks him out, and she wanders the halls to find him. It takes her some time, but she finally hears his voice distantly. She follows the sound to a closed room, and she’s thankful that her lack of shoes allows her steps to be nearly silent. She presses her ear to the door, straining to listen._

 

_Zeke is speaking to someone—a man?—in an angry tone._

 

_“Those damned Scouts—no, this couldn’t be a worse time. The girl is finally starting to trust me.”_

 

_“I don’t understand why she has to. You’re already engaged, Chief.”_

 

_“She has too, don’t you see? I need her to let me woo her. I need more than the throne, idiot. I need heirs to the throne to secure my rule.”_

 

_“My apologies, Chief. I didn’t think about that.”_

 

_“Of course you didn’t. If I have heirs, I can dispose of the girl and her drunken father that way no one can oppose me.”_

 

_Historia realizes that she absolutely should not be hearing this. She shouldn’t even be on this side of the door—panic fills her as she backs away, forgetting for a moment where she is. Her back hits the opposite wall, her head meeting with the wall painfully. Dizzy and frightened, she runs down the hall, turning corners until she’s far from Zeke, from the ballroom, from everyone._

 

_She runs until she collides with a Military Police member, stumbling backward with mumbled apologies. “Sorry, excuse me,” she barely manages to say._

 

_“Historia,” a worried voice echoes in her ears as large hands are on her shoulders, shaking her into lucidity. “Historia, what’s wrong? What happened?”_

 

_Historia blinks through her shock, recognizing the voice. She looks up slowly at him, his blue eyes wide as he searches her face. “Erwin,” she whimpers. “Erwin, I need your help,” she pleads. “I can’t do this. I can’t do any of this.”_

 

_“What happened, Historia?” he repeats, waiting for her response._

 

_She tells him._

 

* * *

 

Historia wakes up first.

 

Her face is wet with fresh tears as she recalls the dream that woke her, reeling from the painful memory. She inhales slowly as she remembers where she is and who’s she’s with.

 

Levi’s arm is still around her, his nose touching the back of her neck. His breathing is even and his hand is limp just under her chest, his fingers twitching occasionally as he sleeps. He’s incredibly warm, which catches her off guard; perhaps she thought his cold demeanor would translate physically, even though it doesn’t make any sense when she thinks about it. Her body feels heavy with exhaustion, still reeling from the previous day’s events, so she doesn’t move to get up.

 

She also doesn’t want to cause him to stir, figuring that once he’s awake he’ll peel away instantly.

 

So she stays put, breathing deeply as she tries to keep her thoughts free of Zeke, Grisha, the children…with how drained she feels, it’s shockingly easier than she expects. She focuses on the sound of Levi’s gentle breathing and the way his body has molded to hers. She wonders what he looks like, peaceful for once. She’s seen him in quiet moments, but none where he’s ever been totally relaxed.

 

This is tranquil.

 

She loses track of time. Eventually, Levi begins to stir, bringing her out of her sleepy daze. He yawns, shifting carefully so that he removes his arm from around her without disturbing her. The way she tenses slightly gives her away, though, and he hesitates with his hand hovering above her waist.

 

“Krista?” he murmurs, unsure if she’s properly awake or not. She turns her head to face him, and she can’t hide the smile the stretches across her lips. Levi furrows his brows. “What?” he snaps.

 

His hair is messy from sleep, his lips are deeply set in a frown, but the bags under his eyes seem lighter and his eyes are alert. Historia lets out the laugh she struggles to hold in. “Your hair is a mess,” she tells him.

 

“Tch.” Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance, promptly removing himself from the bed to wash up and get dressed. Historia keeps grinning to herself, amused that such a deadly man gets offended over her calling out his bedhead.

 

Sooner than she expects, he returns dressed in day clothes and his hair is properly done. He throws a set of clothes to her, gesturing to the door. “They’re men’s clothes, so they’ll be a bit loose. It’s all we’ve got for the moment. We’re regrouping with Isabel and Farlan shortly, so hurry up and don’t forget the cloak. I’ll be just outside the room.”

 

Historia gets dressed, feeling odd to be in trousers. She tends to stick with her skirts at the orphanage, but she’ll accept the extra mobility. The shirt is a plan black shirt, which is indeed loose on her. She looks like a regular townsperson, which she’s thankful for given that Zeke’s men are crawling around now.

 

She combs through her hair with her fingers before she throws on the cloak, pulling up the hood as she heads outside, finding Levi talking to Farlan and Isabel. Isabel brightens up as she sees Historia, whereas Farlan narrows his eyes.

 

“Hello,” Historia greets them shyly.

 

Farlan crosses his arms as he turns to Levi. “Couldn’t keep off for one night?” he growls to Levi, who elbows Farlan sharply in response.

 

“Piss off,” Levi grunts. “Where’s the caravan?”

 

“Just ‘round the corner!” Isabel points, beginning to lead the way. Levi grumbles about the efficiency of his comrades, and Historia trails along nervously. When they come up to the caravan, they see it’s full of boxed goods and there’s a young man making it hard to see into the caravan.

 

He turns around, and Historia can’t help but exclaim in surprise, “Marco?!”

 

“Ah—Krista!” Marco takes off his hat as he nods as her, giving her a flushed smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

“Is there a single god damn person in this town that you don’t know?” Levi interjects, looking pointedly at Historia, who turns red at the comment. Marco gets flustered as well, hopping off of the caravan to approach the Scouts and Krista.

 

“Captain,” Marco addresses Levi with a different kind of respect—submissively, she notices. “I have everything to order. Am I still bringing you to the Commander?”

 

“Yes,” Levi affirms. Historia perks up at the mention of the Commander—she recognized Erwin’s name to the Scouts. Marco straightens the last few items in the wagon at Levi’s response, making sure all is in order.

 

“In the back you go, then.” Marco offers his hand to Historia to help her climb up, which she accepts as she hoists her way in. She sits in the back, hidden by a few boxes of items stacked to be taller than her when she sits down. Levi doesn’t join her right away, talking in low voices with the three Scouts.

 

Historia wonders who else she knows who’s a Scout.

 

She barely hears Farlan’s whispering until he shouts, “Fucks sake, Levi!” There’s some movement, more low voices, and then Levi joins her in the wagon, looking frustrated. Historia opens her mouth to ask, but the look he gives her silences her.

 

Not the best time, then.

 

There’s more chattering outside from Marco and Isabel for a few minutes until Marco spurs on the horses. Once they begin to move, Levi is lost in thought, staring somewhere past Historia. His arms are crossed, one leg propped up on his knee by his ankle. His intensity emanates from him, begging Historia’s curiosity even if she isn’t sure where to begin.

 

So she starts small.

 

“So we’re meeting with Erwin?”

 

Levi’s gaze refocuses on her, calculating as he ponders her question. “Yes. Farlan and Isabel are riding ahead of us to him to make sure that the road is clear.”

 

“He doesn’t seem to like me much,” Historia comments offhandedly, feigning a laugh.

 

Levi rolls his eyes. “It’s not that. He just doesn’t know if he can trust you,” he tells her plainly. “Things are happening fast. He’s my oldest friend, and he just wants to make sure you’re not bringing the MPs behind our backs.”

 

The way his eyes bore into hers makes her want to shift in her seat, but she’s careful not to. Instead, she nods in understanding. “That’s a fair concern. I’ll prove to you all that you can trust me.”

 

“I already do,” Levi dismisses her comment with a wave of his hand.

 

When he doesn’t say anything else, Historia shifts gears, not wanting to accidentally dig a hole she can’t get out of. She keeps to herself for the ride, deciding to observe Levi as he gets lost in thought, his eyebrows pinched together tightly. She mulls over his words: he already trusts her. She hasn’t given him a reason _not_ to trust her, but she still feels anxious when she considers the gravity of that sentiment. She’s lied about her identity to Levi, withheld information that could put him in harm’s way, and she desperately wants to tell him the truth.

 

Yet, she’s petrified of it all slipping away if she reveals her secret.

 

She’s jolted from her thoughts as the wagon comes to a sudden stop. There’s panicked voices outside—Marco, Isabel, and Farlan—and then Marco appears at the wagon’s opening, wide-eyed and frazzled.

 

“Captain,” Marco whispers, his eyes showing fear. “We’re being followed. Farlan and Is have gone ahead to try and trail them off. They’re not normal MPs, either—they’re like some specialized group.”

 

“The King’s Guard,” Historia supplies with terror in her voice, making both men look at her questioningly.

 

Levi wastes no time in asking, roughly pulling Historia by the arm out of the wagon. “Marco, send word to the others. We need backup—Krista, you’re coming with me.” Levi moves to stand, reaching out to grab Historia’s arm. He steps forward to lead her out of the caravan, ready to run.

 

Marco’s face shifts as he’s shoved out of the way, and in his place there’s Military Police standing, eyes widening with recognition at both Levi and Historia.

 

“We found the fugitives!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so excited for the next chapter!! i know this one was a few hundred words shorter than usual but next chapter will make up for it ;)
> 
> let me know your thoughts!
> 
> much love


	7. cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fight.
> 
> edit: there’s some descriptions of fist fights and violence in this. no gore of course, but I realize I forgot to add this warning to this chapter. At the end of the chapter I’ll add a synopsis if you choose to skip it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had an incredibly hard time writing this chapter. i'm not great with action scenes but this contains a pivotal moment for our favorite duo, so i tried my very best.
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!

She barely has time to register what’s happening.

 

Levi steps in front of her, roughly shoving her aside to throw a punch square to the soldier’s jaw. The soldier goes down, and Levi grabs Historia again, leading her as they jump from the wagon, breaking into a sprint as soon as their feet meet the ground.

 

“ _Find them!_ ” a furious voice shrieks. “Tear apart the entire fucking town if you must!”

 

Historia’s heart throbs in her chest painfully as she follows Levi through the winding streets, passing familiar buildings while taking foreign pathways. She manages to keep up, nearly tripping over her own feet when he makes sharp turns without warning. They eventually end up at a tavern, empty except for the barmaid setting up to open for the day, wiping down tables. She’s startled by their sudden intrusion, squeaking in surprise.

 

“Go find Isabel and Farlan!” Levi orders her. She doesn’t question him, making a run for it for the front door. Almost as soon as she steps out, three Guardsmen file in, fists clenched and eye’s sharp, showing that they’re ready for what’s to come. Historia’s gaze skims over all three—even with them being Guardsmen, she doesn’t recognize any of them.

 

“Hand over the girl,” one of them—the redhead that Levi punched earlier, commands. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, you filthy Scout.”

 

Realizing that they are cornered, Levi puts himself between Historia and the men, baring his teeth as he snarls at them, “You shits ought to run on home before you can’t anymore.”

 

“You’ll be nothing more than a piece of shit from the gutter, Ackerman!” an MP sneers. “Trash is as trash does.”

 

The room erupts.

 

Levi shouts like a beast enraged as he charges, his right hook quickly catching the MP on the side of his head. His speed is startling, fighting like he was born for violence. Historia is left unguarded as another brute approaches her with a cruel grin like predator eyeing easy prey. His shoulders are broad and he towers over her, cropped brown hair slicked back. “Come on now, darling, you really think you can fight a big man like me?”

 

Historia bristles at the comment, unwilling to back down from the challenge. His voice is familiar, striking a chord somewhere deep in the recess of her memories and making her angrier for a reason she can’t recall with her adrenaline racing. He takes a large stride forward and she backs up, easily missing the lazy swing he takes at her. His eyes widen when he notices her acute attention to him, and his shoulders square as he grits his teeth for a proper fight. She’s thankful for Mikasa’s sparring sessions with her—no matter how little she knows, she has an idea of what to expect. Her lack of experience shows in her fixation on the man before her—her punch lands hard on his jaw, breaking the skin of her knuckles as it connects. The man stumbles backward, giving her a moment of grandeur as she steps forward to follow him.

 

She forgets there’s another, her stomach sinking as an arm loops roughly around her shoulders, yanking her back. She’s held to a man’s chest, and her entire body freezes when she feels the cool touch of a blade to her neck burn as it begins to break the skin. Her eyes search for Levi, who’s fighting like he was born for violence, teeth bared in a snarl and his body moving with the elegance of a dancer as he beats down an MP twice his size. She wants to cry out to him, scream for help, to beg for her life—but she can’t find her voice, only tears brimming in her eyes as she scratches pitifully at the MP’s hands.

 

And then, her world shatters as the man she had been fighting looks up at them and shouts furiously.

 

“ _Don’t kill the fucking princess, you idiot!_ ”

 

Levi’s fighting ceases for a moment at the words, and the man whose nose he just broke takes the opportunity to restrain Levi, wrapping his arms around his neck and shoulders in a chokehold. Levi struggles weakly, distractedly looking at Historia with the widest eyes she’s seen, dark and blazing. The world slows down in the second her eyes lock with Levi’s, her heart pounding in her chest, the blade beginning to press into her neck, stinging as blood trickles out and down her front. She holds her breath, fearful that if she moves too much then the knife will dig deeper in her neck, and yet, for a second she almost wishes it did so she could just stop being the princess that ran away, even if for a short moment.

 

She opens her mouth to speak, but a hand roughly clamps over hers, the revolting taste of dirty skin on her tongue. She’s too petrified to move, too afraid of causing the blade against her neck to go any deeper.

 

The MP she was fighting with is on his feet and begins to walk toward her and the MP with the knife on her neck. “Alright, Jonah, we got ‘em so relax.”

 

The one holding her—Jonah—removes the knife from her neck and pushes her away. She stumbles, nearly meeting the floor until the brunette grabs her by the neck gripping tightly even as blood runs down his fingers and arm.

 

“What a lot of fucking trouble you’ve been,” he jeers. His eyes flash darkly, a wicked grin spreading on his lips. “How about we have a bit of fun, boys? For our troubles,” he suggests to the others. “Chief Zeke isn’t attached to this one anyway. He just needs her for her crown.”

 

Historia gurgles painfully as he tightens his hold, clawing at his hand desperately. A memory flashes in her mind as he talks—from the night she ran away.

 

_“I don’t understand why she has to. You’re already engaged, Chief.”_

 

The man behind the closed door at the masquerade. The one who Zeke informed of Historia’s budding trust.

 

The other MP who had held her back before comes up behind her again, his voice low in her ear but still loud enough for the room to her.

 

“We’ll give you the _royal_ treatment, Your Highness,” he sneers.

 

Something shifts in her.

 

Levi’s suddenly everywhere—his elbow meets the MP’s groin who was trying to restrain him, making him buckle. Levi tackles the brunette choking Historia, making him drop her in a breathless heap. As he fights the brute, eyes alight with murderous rage, Historia turns around to face the MP who spoke in her ear.

 

In a flurry of movement, she manages to overtake him. She doesn’t know how she does it, or where this newfound energy comes from, but she’s sitting on top of the man and she’s beating him. She’s baring her teeth as she clenches her jaw, grunting as she pounds her fists over and over again into his face. She doesn’t feel the skin of her knuckles split with the impact, doesn’t feel the way his bones crack with the repeated hits, doesn’t hear this ragged, wet breaths between each punch. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, her hair in her eyes as she blinks, her vision blurry as she pulls back before laying her fist back into the man’s head with every ounce of her strength she can muster.

 

Everything is red as she keeps going and going and going and—

 

“Stop it!” Levi’s voice is all she hears, his hand is all she feels and he grabs her by her arms, tossing her effortlessly off of the MP. His face is covered in blood and unrecognizable, laying still on the ground as she lands on the ground a few feet away. “He’s going to be dead if he isn’t already,” Levi tells her.

 

He kneels beside her; she stares past him silently as she tries to catch her breath. He tears off the hem of his shirt, wrapping it around her neck where she’s still bleeding. The wound is shallow, but he ties it nevertheless, grimacing when the blood stains the white fabric crimson. Historia’s whole body begins to ache with pain, reality slowly settling in. He stands, pulling her up with him. He walks around the room to inspect the men, ensuring they’re not going to get back up. After a walk around, he sighs heavily with relief despite his tense shoulders. Even when they realize all the Military Police are dead or unconscious, knowing that they have a window of safety, the tension still hangs thickly in the air. Historia stares at Levi, unsure if she can run to him or not. She looks away at the ground, trying to make the room stop spinning as she catches her breath. Her body is still ready to fight, every muscle tightly wound and ready to spring into action.

 

“Historia.”

 

Her real name makes her flinch, but then she’s met with a sudden wall of muscle. Levi pulls her into his arms, wrapping around her shoulders as she’s drawn against him. She crumbles in his embrace, tearing freely flowing as she realizes that they’re alive—that he’s alive and okay—and that he’s still reaching out for her.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is hoarse as he struggles to reign in his emotions. She doesn’t answer, not sure how to begin to tell him. He grabs her by the back of her head, forcing her to look up at him as she cries. His eyes are swirling with emotions, a mix of anger and bloodlust and betrayal written all over his normally stony face. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” he repeats his question, his hold tightening for a moment.

 

Historia shakes her head, reaching up to put her hand on his arm. “I just—I was afraid,” she confesses tearfully.

 

Levi looks down at her hand, bleeding and bruised. His expression shifts into something softer when he sees the aftermath of her blind rage on her hands, reaching to take her other in his. She winces at his touch, her hands still shaking from the fight.

 

They both jump and turn toward the door as it busts open, Isabel and Farlan rushing in. They stop short as they take in the scene: three Military Policemen on the ground, brutally beaten, and Levi embracing an injured Historia, both of them not having made it out of the fight unscathed.

 

“What in the gods name—“ Farlan begins to ask what happened, but Levi cuts him off, enraged.

 

“Where the fuck were you?!” Levi erupts. “They nearly fucking killed us!”

 

“We tried to lead them away and then you ran off!” Farlan retorts. “We almost didn’t find you until Mina found us running around blindly!”

 

“What a load of—“

 

“Shut it, both of you!” Isabel bellows. Levi turns to face her, still high from his fight, but her green eyes shine with a challenge to argue with her. “The fighting’s done, you dolts. We need to find somewhere safe for you and Krista.”

 

“Historia,” Levi corrects instantly. Isabel’s eyes widen as she glances at Historia, still processing everything that’s happened.

 

“As in—?” Farlan begins.

 

“The Princess,” Levi supplies. “That’s why the King’s Guard has taken a sudden interest in us.”

 

Isabel recovers quickly, slowly approaching Historia. She recognizes the dazed look of someone who’s not used to violence suddenly being thrusted into it, her hands gently guiding Historia to the door. “All the more reason to find a place for you both. Come on, Big Bro. You’re not running off a second time.”

 

* * *

 

They’re at a small home on the edge of the town. It’s owned by someone who’s in the Military Police but doubles as a Scout. “Erwin’s not our only person in the MP,” Levi tells Historia even though she didn’t ask. She’s remained silent for the trip over, wordlessly washing her face and arms in the bathroom sink. When she removes the makeshift bandage from her neck, she welcomes the painful sting. The sensation grounds her, reminding her that nothing was a dream.

 

She’s Historia Reiss, and Levi knows her secret.

 

The water she washes with is cool, the feeling pleasant on her bruises and cuts. She dries her face with a cloth, wincing at the pressure she accidentally applies. When she returns to the living room, Levi passes her without speaking to clean up as well. She finds the emptiness of the common area suffocating so she goes to the bedroom, looking over herself in the mirror on the wall. She examines each bruise and cut, lingering on the slice from the blade and bruises from the guard’s hand on her neck. She hears Levi’s light footsteps, and she looks up as he enters the room. Levi leans against the doorframe, his silver eyes meeting hers.

 

Albeit bloody and battered, they’re both safe.

 

Levi’s eyes take in the sight of her, and the unfamiliar feeling of guilt grows in his chest at the sight of a bruise on her jaw, accompanied by his heart beating wildly.Despite the fresh wounds and red bruises, her wide blue eyes are bright and shining with worry as she looks at him. He sighs and allows his shoulders to slump with exhaustion. “Don’t look so frightened, please. I’m the last person who would hurt you right now.”

 

Historia blinks and furrows her brow. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You know who I really am,” she says quietly.

 

 _Right_.

 

Levi’s jaw clenches at the mention of her best kept secret. “Ah. That.” He knew she was special with all the attention from noblemen and the MPs, but he wouldn’t had guessed that she was the runaway princess hiding in plain sight. When he looks at her now, he doesn’t see royalty—he sees a young woman who has been through a hell of a day, who looks so incredibly vulnerable, and who keeps looking between his eyes and his lips. His fingertips twitch, so he clenches his fists weakly to focus. “What of it?”

 

“Do you think differently of me?” she asks timidly.

 

“No.” He takes a step toward her, and she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move away. Instead, she tilts her chin upward to keep her gaze even with his. “You see me, now. _Really_ see me. Do you think differently of me?” he throws her question back at her as he’s inches from her, uncurling his fists so his hands hang loosely at his sides.

 

Levi wonders if she can hear his racing heart.

 

Unbeknownst to him, Historia is thinking the same thing.

 

She answers in a whisper as she places her hands on his chest. “No.”

 

His hands find her sides naturally, resting in the curve of her hip like they were always meant to be there. The rational part of his mind screams at him that this isn’t the time, that they nearly died, that they’re both emotionally raw from the day. His heart, however…his desires are almost inaudible in his ears, drowned out by the drum of his heartbeat, luring him in a direction he hasn’t gone in over a decade. It leads him toward her lips, her eyelashes on her cheekbones as her eyes flutter shut, and the warmth emanating from her small body. Like a sailor drawn to a siren, he listens to that melody.

 

He surrenders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is mostly written! so it'll be a faster update. i'm sure you can see where it's going ;)
> 
> also, if you skipped this chapter because of the violence warning, here’s what you missed:
> 
> Levi and Historia get caught and fight members of the Royal Guard. Historia is outed as the princess, and beats the shit out of a RG because she snaps from all the pressure and trauma. Levi and Historia make it out alive and hide at a Scout’s house alone.
> 
> much love


	8. surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost in their feelings, they find one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, to make up for the last chapter...smut! finally!
> 
> i listened to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22pQ8iNGi-Y&t=9s) a lot while writing this chapter, if you like to listen while reading.

  _He surrenders._

 

Her lips are softer than satin, her tongue sweeter than wine. His nose bumps hers clumsily and reveal that he’s a bit out of practice with physical intimacy. Her fingers thread through his hair, still soft despite the sweat and blood that’s dampened it throughout the day. He once would have thought her hands dainty, but now he knows that she’s secretly hardened by rebellion and a taste of freedom topped with a fear of it all being ripped away. Her fingernails gently scratch the shaved part of his undercut and the sensation makes him shiver. Her breaths are hushed when they break apart for air, only to dive back in again with more fervor each time. She holds herself close to him, just enough so that she can move away if he begins to draw back. When one of his hands trail up her back to the nape of her neck, gripping her hair hard enough to make her gasp and expose her neck to him so he can pepper kisses along the sensitive skin. He practically growls at the quiet moan that leaves her parted lips. She murmurs his name in his ear when he kisses her clavicle, “ _Levi, please_. ” He moves so he can look her in the eyes again, and she surges forward to steal his lips in a messy kiss.

 

Levi realizes as her trembling hands unbutton his shirt why he’s been so drawn to her, always finding a reason to go back, to be around this fire of a woman. She’s full of bubbling emotions, ready to rise to any occasion, unwilling to back down from a challenge when she’s presented with it. Yet, so many parts of her beyond this high guard are gentle and soft— _delicate._

 

She tugs at his shirt, discarding it somewhere behind him. He moves them through their kiss, taking steps that urge her backward until the backs of her knees hit the pathetic excuse for a bed. She sits on the mattress and looks up at him with those oceanic eyes, her hands on his abdomen with his shirt open now. He thinks of many things he could do in this situation, but he decides to kiss her again instead, pulling at her blouse so it’s untucked. When he slips his hands underneath, pushing under her bodice, her breathing stutters in the middle of their kiss. His hands stop just underneath her breasts as he asks, “Is this okay?”

 

“Yes.” Historia doesn’t even think before answering. She pulls off her blouse and rushes to undo her bodice, but just knots the strings in her bout of nerves. Levi chuckles at her silent display of embarrassment when her cheeks flush, leaning forward to kiss her while he gently moves her hands aside. He slowly unties her bodice, relishing the  intimacy  of the moment. She watches him take care to not tear anything, his callused hands moving nimbly. When it’s fully untied, he moves the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, discarding the bodice on the bed beside her before turning to admire her naked torso. She shifts in her seat self-consciously and moves to cross her arms, but he shakes his head and catches her wrists.

 

Levi leans in to press his lips to her collarbone, moving down to her sternum in between her breasts. “Don’t hide,” he tells her, his deep voice rumbling against her sternum before he trails his lips to her breast, moving one of his hands to the other. Historia squeezes her knees together when warmth pools in her abdomen, gasping when Levi takes her in his lips. He nips at her with his teeth, his rough hands massaging her on the other side. The hand holding her wrist moves to her knees, prying her apart easily as he settles in between her, his knees on the floor by the edge of the bed she sits on. His hand inches up her skirt as his mouth switches sides, wanting to hear more of her; the sounds she makes are muffled when she covers her mouth with her hands. When his hand reaches her panties, he pulls away, picking her up easily and moving her so he can settle on the bed between her legs. “The floor kills my knees,” he explains.

 

“I was wondering how long you’d stay on that dirty floor,” Historia giggles.

 

The way her face relaxes when she laughs makes his heart fucking  soar , and he resolves to do anything to see it again.

 

Her skirt bunches at her waist as he pushes up the fabric, eyeing the pink underwear hidden beneath. “Historia,” he hooks his fingers under the hem of her underwear, noticing the way she shivers at the touch of his fingertips on her hips, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

 

“I will if I want to,” she nods. “But right now, I don’t.”

 

He pulls off her underwear, going back to do the same to her skirt. The way she’s laid out bare beneath him stirs something primal within, taking in how angelic she looks with her golden hair splayed around her head, and the rosy flush of her cheeks. He must be staring for longer than normal because she squirms a little, moving her leg when he takes a firm hold of her ankle.

 

“Is something wrong?” she asks shyly.

 

His eyes flash darkly with desire. “Nothing. Not a damn thing.” He leans over her to kiss her again, relishing how she eagerly meets him halfway. Her hands find either side of his neck, pulling him closer as she tilts her head to deepen their kiss. Her lips are parted, letting him explore her mouth with his tongue. He slips a hand between her legs, sliding a finger along her folds teasingly before inserting the digit. She’s already slick, so he easily moves inside her, but the intrusion makes her gasp into their kiss. The way she reacts so quickly makes a realization hit him, but he doesn’t vocalize it yet. He’s too intoxicated by her lips and the small noises she makes in response to his.

 

Historia rolls her hips up as Levi adds another finger inside of her, making a come-hither motion with his fingers. His thumb finds her clit after a moment, trying to coordinate his movements so he can stimulate her further. She tries to stifle a moan but fails, and he smiles against her lips. “L-Levi—“

 

“Yes?” he lifts his head slightly so he can meet her gaze, his bangs brushing her cheek. His eyes grow warm with fondness when he sees her face is flushed crimson.

 

“I, um, I...” she feels embarrassed when she tries to explain that this is all so new to her. He’s patient, pausing his movements and looking at her patiently when she stammers timidly. “I haven’t done this before.” She isn’t sure why she expects him to tease her or to scoff, but she’s surprised when he just kisses her, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. “Why—?” she tries to ask between kisses.

 

“You’re perfect as you are,” Levi assures her, inching down to kiss along the line of her jaw to the crook of her neck. Her entire body is hot when he speaks, coming alive under his praise and with his fingers inside of her. She squirms when he adds a final digit, working her a little further until he thinks she’s ready.

 

Levi withdraws his hand from her, leaving her feel oddly empty as he hurriedly unbuttons his pants and kicks off his trousers. He straightens for a moment, gazing down at her while she does the same to him; she’s never seen him fully nude. His torso has small scars littering odd spots, much like the rest of him. His abdomen is cut with muscles that come together in a defined V, and her eyes linger over his erect cock. He smirks when she looks back up at his eyes, gleaming with lust. Without thinking she reaches for him, making him croon under her touch as she wraps her fingers around him.

 

“Fuck,” he moans when she strokes him, trying to get a pace set. “Wait—“ he spits in his hand before pumping himself a few times. Historia’s nose pinches at the act, so he explains sheepishly, “It feels better than just rubbing me dry. Here.” He puts his hand over hers on his length, guiding her to full strokes. “Don’t worry about being so gentle. I want to feel you.”

 

Historia takes the advice, and within moments he’s leaking with precum as she works him with her hand. He drops his head on her shoulder, holding himself up by his forearms on either side of her head. He kisses anywhere on her torso he can, leaving small marks as he goes. Her wrist quickly begins to ache, so she slows her pace before trying to guide him to her center.

 

“Levi,” she urges. “I want you. Please.”

 

He moves a hand to line himself to her, the tip of his cock rubbing along her wet folds. When she bucks her hips at the friction, he inches in, groaning with pleasure when he feels her warmth envelop him. He moves his head to kiss her as he slides into her, pausing partway through. “Relax,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of her mouth.

 

“I am,” Historia insists, willing herself to do so. When he feels her actually do so, he moves again so that his full length is inside of her.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.

 

Historia wiggles her hips slightly, discomfort shifting to pleasure at the movement. “Yes.”

 

He takes her lips in his as he begins to thrust his hips. As he moves at a steady pace, their kiss becomes sloppy, and she begins to moan loudly. She feels so wonderfully each time he fills her, and he slips an arm under one of her knees, holding her legs open so that he can fuck her deeper with each thrust. He nearly growls as he wants to 

 

Her senses are full of Levi, so she just looks at him as he moves within her. His eyes are clouded with lust, but his kiss conveys desire that reaches beyond her body.

 

He hides his face against her neck, licking under the shell of her ear. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he mutters.

 

She wraps her arms around his waist, running her hands up his back. She can feel the muscles moving underneath her fingertips, and she’s only more aroused by the power that she knows lies within his body. She’s in awe that she can bring this primal nature out of such a composed man, and yet he finds it in him to still be gentle with her.

 

“I’m going to finish soon, Historia,” Levi warns her, every other word punctuated by a thrust. “Look at me. Please.”

 

Historia does as she’s asked, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment when he thrusts harder, his movements more frantic as he approaches his climax. She cranes her neck to kiss him once more, and he moans into her mouth as he orgasms, spilling into her.

 

Slowly, he stops moving, her body tingling as he settles on top of her, flush against her. He puts his mouth to hers, kissing her tenderly. 

 

They lay there, lazily kissing and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Levi makes no move to leave, so Historia doesn’t until he suggests quietly, “You may want to use the restroom. Clean up a bit so you won’t feel sticky later.” When Historia looks at him with red, embarrassed cheeks, he bumps her nose with his gently. “I’m not kicking you out. Come back to me.”

 

She does.

 

He lifts the sheets for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he turns his head to press his lips to her forehead sweetly.

 

“What happens now?” Historia asks shyly.

 

“Whatever we want,” Levi replies calmly. When she doesn’t answer, he adjusts so he can look at her, marveling at how her eyes glitter like gems even in the dim light. “What do you want, Historia?”

 

She mulls over the question as she holds his gaze before really looking at him up close. His dark eyes are clear, flecks of blue among the silver. His face shows exhaustion that never leaves but there’s vulnerability that she’s never seen in Levi before. When he blinks, his long eyelashes brush his cheeks, dark even against the shadows under his eyes. She sees so much written all over his expression that she realizes has always been there, just for her, but she simply wasn’t able to see it.

 

“I just want to be here with you,” she whispers.

 

The corners of his lips pull up, his eyes softening. She kisses him once more, determined to relish this moment of solitude with him without any responsibilities to hold them back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know your thoughts and feelings in the comments, please!
> 
> much love


	9. a fool's devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was _so_ much harder to write than i expected. i can't apologize enough for how long and overdue this is. i admit i had family in town, but even when i found time, i felt like i was hitting a wall with this. i feel like i've climbed out of that rut, but i hope it's enough for you all!
> 
> also, **warning:** historia gets hit in this (not by Levi though). i updated the tags & warning for the story since there's several fights and there's mental aftermath from that that historia is dealing with.
> 
> & special shout out to nicole, liz, ro, and soapy for all being supportive while i tried not to hit my head against the wall writing this lol. love you guys <3

 

The early morning hours beckon her from sleep, making her stir.

 

Historia blinks slowly, her vision gradually focusing in the low light. She’s facing Levi, the sheets bunched under his arm and around his waist. As she begins to process where she is, she takes her time to wake up. Levi’s breathing is slow, telling of the weight of sleep that’s still holding him. His expression is serene, unbothered while he dreams. She begins to sit up until he inhales deeply. He twitches once before his body relaxes again, his lips parting slightly.

 

He looks younger while he sleeps so peacefully.

 

She manages to sit up in bed, yawning as she stretches, reaching up into the air and arching her back. He stirs, blinking as he wakes. As he orients himself, there’s a brief moment of tension until he focuses on Historia, his expression softening. “Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out to wrap his arm around her waist.

 

“Levi,” she whispers. “I’m just getting up to walk around the house. I’ll be back in back shortly, okay?”

 

“Hmm,” Levi hums groggily, peering up at her through lidded eyes. “Okay.”

 

Historia smiles warmly at him as he withdraws his arm, sighing heavily as he shuts his eyes. Once she’s confident he’s slipping back into sleep, she eases off the mattress and she strains to find her clothes among Levi’s, strewn about on the floor near the bed. She puts on each article as she finds it, grimacing at putting on the same clothes from the day before but accepting that she doesn’t have other options at the moment.

 

Once her shirt is buttoned up, she pulls her hair out from under the collar, carding her fingers through her tangled strands. She looks at Levi, still sleeping, and warmth spreads to her fingertips at the sight of him.

 

Eager for a breath of fresh air, she grabs her shoes from the floor, carrying them until she finds the door to the back of the house. She quietly pulls them on in the threshold, wanting to have a moment alone to process the previous day’s events before returning to Levi. She wonders what the plan is for the day, and the thought of being able to kiss him again makes her heart race and her lips pull into a giddy smile.

 

When she steps outside, she’s met with damp morning air, the sun hardly over the horizon as it paints the sky orange and pink. She takes a deep breath, savoring the quiet as the town begins to wake. She knows she said she would only be around the house, but she figures some morning air can’t hurt her.

 

As she inhales again, relishing the solitude.

 

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

 

A deep voice rumbles behind her, causing her to whirl around in fright as her body tenses, goosebumps prickling all over her skin. Zeke is leaning next to the door, looking far too relaxed and pleased with himself, his sharp eyes raking over her. Her hair is mildly disheveled since she only combed through the tresses with her fingers, her clothing wrinkled, and lingering over the scab and bruises on her neck.

 

“Please don’t make a scene. I’ll make this short,” Zeke begins casually, as if speaking of the weather once his eyes meet hers again. He holds one hand out beside him as he talks, palm up. “I have the Royal Guard all around this house. With one order, they will kill everyone who gets in the way of capturing you. However...” he holds out his other hand in the same manner. “If you come quietly, then I’ll withdraw the Royal Guard entirely and we will return home with the Princess back at the King’s—and soon to be, my own—right hand.”

 

Her voice is caught in her throat, along with her wildly beating heart, threatening to let out the harsh words she so desperately wants to scream at him.

 

Yet she doesn’t, knowing it would spell out disaster.

 

“What happens to me?” Historia instead asks shakily.

 

“You will return to the Capital. You will fill out your duties as Princess, and eventually Queen, loyally. And quietly,” Zeke adds hastily.

 

“And the Scouts?”

 

“You have my word that we will not seek them out,” he promises—not that it holds much weight to Historia.

 

“Levi, too?” She questions, wanting clarity.

 

Zeke takes a deep breath, but no impatience shows as he confirms her inquiry. “He will live.”

 

She didn’t realize that her eyes were welling with tears until a few stray ones fall down her cheeks, and her hands tremble at her sides. She clenches them into fists to hide how she’s shaking with terror, knowing she’s failing to conceal the dread written all over her face. She knows that she’s lost this already—she knows that she’s about to lose everything she’s fought so hard to keep.

 

She’s about to lose Levi, and that’s what breaks her heart the most. She can handle losing everything else, but her mind flashes to the night before. His mouth on hers, trailing along to leave kisses on her skin, bringing her pulse to a peak with every touch and movement to pull her closer.

 

Her memories are shattered as Zeke speaks again, sounding disgruntled.

 

“I don’t have all day to wait. That pet of yours will wake soon.” He crosses his arms, straightening to his full height. She looks up at him with wide eyes as he speaks with finality. “Come back with me to the Capital, or death to all others. Make your choice.”

 

Her blood runs cold as a weight sinks in her stomach.

 

_“What happens now?”_

 

_“Whatever we want.”_

 

She tastes bile on her tongue, swallowing it back down as she gives her answer. “I’ll come with you.”

 

She hates the way his lips curve up into a smile, how his shoulders roll back easily. “Perfect. Let’s get a move on, then. Your father will be eager to see you.”

 

The idea of facing her father again makes her insides twist painfully, but her feet follow Zeke anyway, leading her away.

 

_I’m sorry, Levi._

 

* * *

 

It takes a day and a half’s journey to return to the Capital. When they reach the Royal Castle, they are greeted with a crowd of civilians outside, eagerly cheering for the return of their beloved Princess. Historia gives a forced smile as she waves through her carriage window at the civilians, her smile dropping once they’re on the interior castle grounds.

 

At the entrance of the Castle, they’re greeted by the King himself, flanked by the highest ranking members of the Royal Guard and Military Police, Erwin Smith and Nile Dok. Rod Reiss looks disappointed, his face set like stone. She doesn’t process her excitement to see Erwin, too distracted by facing her father again.

 

When Historia approaches him, she begins to greet him. “Father, I—“

 

She’s cut off by a hard slap to the face. She makes a startled noise, stumbling into Nile, who catches her with a firm hold on her arms. He keeps her up as she rights herself, glancing up at him apologetically as she does so, worry alight in his eyes despite his neutral expression. She gingerly holds her face where her father hit her as she turns to look at him with horror.

 

His eyes are cold as he regards her. “You may be my daughter, but you will never run from me again. Do you understand me?”

 

Her body is numb. Past Rod, Erwin’s face is blank, his jaw clenched painfully. Zeke is observing silently, his expression unreadable as his eyes dart between Rod and Historia.

 

“I asked you a question, Historia.” Rod takes a step toward her, and she flinches, bumping again into Nile. His hands hover over her arms again in case she falls—or is struck—once more.

 

“I understand,” she murmurs fearfully as she stares at her father.

 

“Good.” Rod is unblinking as he takes another step, backhanding her this time. Nile’s hands are gentle as he keeps her on her feet, long fingers curling around her biceps. Her face is stinging beneath her hands, blinking the white spots from her vision. “You will learn obedience, loyalty, and family.” He turns his attention to Nile. “Nile, if any of your men see her on the streets, you have orders to arrest her. Use any means necessary. She’s not to leave the grounds unsupervised.”

 

Nile straightens, his mouth tight as he nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“And Erwin.” Rod turns on his heel to face the blonde. “That means the Guard is to keep a close eye on her. For now, she’s not to be unaccompanied on the Grounds. I want someone with her at all times so we don’t have a repeat of her previous antics.”

 

Erwin nods in understanding. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

 

Rod regards Erwin for a moment before turning his focus once more to Historia, who stares unblinkingly at him, petrified to the spot. “Erwin, get her out of my sight. Take her to get cleaned up and look presentable.”

 

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

 

Nile takes a step back, allowing Erwin to guide Historia away in her daze. She follows blindly, already knowing the route that they’re taking, but doing so without thinking. Erwin doesn’t say anything to her as they pass through familiar hallways, servants pausing to gawk at Historia’s presence and rush to address her as she goes by, ignoring every single one.

 

When they reach her quarters, there’s a servant waiting for her. She recognizes her as a kind middle-aged woman named Judith, who’s face contorts with worry at the sight of Historia, her neck bruised and scabbed from her fight the day prior, and her face red and beginning to bruise from her father’s hits. Erwin talks in a low voice to Judith, who nods before disappearing into Historia’s quarters, leaving the door open for Erwin to usher in the princess. Judith is further into the grand, oversized bathroom, drawing up a fresh bath for her. Historia looks up at Erwin, blue eyes shimmering with tears threatening to spill over. He tucks her hair behind her ears before cupping her face with his large hands, wiping away the stray tears that fall with his thumbs.

 

“I’m so sorry that you’re back here,” he whispers. “We’ll find a way for you to be free of all this.”

 

Historia gives him a tight, sad smile. “No, Erwin. I agreed to come back. It was the only way to keep everyone safe.”

 

Erwin furrows his brows, gears turning quickly.

 

She gently pulls his hands away with her own before getting onto her toes, kissing his cheek chastely. “Thank you.”

 

As she heads into the washroom, he’s left standing in shock, processing the meaning of her willing return to the Capital before disappearing, shutting the door to her quarters behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Do you need any assistance, Your Highness?”

 

“Please,” she murmurs, “just call me Historia, Judith. And…I suppose I would appreciate that very much. Thank you.”

 

Judith hesitates before nodding. “Yes, Historia.” The older woman moves to slowly help Historia undress, taking care even though the clothes are filthy and torn in some places from her fighting. When Historia gets into the tub, filled with soapy water, the heat from the water permeates to her bones, soothing the aches in her joints. She sighs involuntary, her eyes shutting as her body relaxes.

 

She jumps, startled, when Judith pours water over her hair.

 

“I’m sorry, Your—erm, Historia,” she apologizes.

 

“It’s okay,” the princess assures her. “I must be jumpy from being so tired,” she lies, knowing full well why she’s so easily startled.

 

Judith must know this too but is too polite to comment on it. Instead, she dances around the topic, like her training would instruct her to. Never directly approach a topic you cannot initiate, but don’t deny royalty the right to share if they wish to. “We were all very worried about you, Historia. I hope these wounds did not come from whoever stole you away.”

 

Historia mulls over Judith’s words as her hair is shampooed and conditioned, working out the grease and dirt. Once Judith rinses her hair, she finally responds, “I wasn’t taken away. Those who protected me didn’t hurt me.” Historia doesn’t look at her handmaid, but she doesn’t have to in order to know there’s a mixture of pity and sympathy present in her expression. “I was kept safe by a good man, and now I have to marry the beast who dragged me back here.”

 

The servant’s movements pause, followed by a sigh. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, Historia.”

 

This subtle, genuine solidarity is what breaks the princess, whose shoulders shaking with hushed sobs. She feels humiliated as she cries, allowing Judith to slowly work on cleaning her, kindly ignoring Historia’s ugly weeping all the while. Historia wants to crawl out of her skin from embarrassment over how much she’s cried the last few days, how long she ran away just to return so easily, and out of sorrow for leaving behind the man she loves to be with the man she’s forced to follow.

 

“I let everyone down, Judith,” Historia sobs, hiding her face in her hands. “I tried so _hard_ to do the right thing by everyone else. I did what _I_ wanted, and look where my idiocy got me.”

 

Judith don’t say anything in turn, only prying Historia’s hands from her face easily to scrub them for her, ensuring she reaches under the princess’s fingernails. Dried blood and dirt is removed, and fresh scabs on her knuckles are accidentally scrubbed off as well, stinging from the soap. She winces, but doesn’t pull away. The burn grounds her and reminds her of reality, keeping her from withdrawing further into herself.

 

After an eternity, she’s being lead out of the bathtub, being wrapped in soft, fresh towels. She doesn’t bother feeling immodest around Judith, instead too numb to feel much of anything at all. Her core is raw, carved out from the pain of the day.

 

“Out we go,” Judith urges her quietly. “Let’s get you dressed, dear.”

 

The older woman’s words echo in Historia’s ears. She simply nods as she follows her handmaid, her mind fuzzy as she comes down from her high of emotions.

 

Once in her bedroom, Judith lays out a nightgown that Historia doesn’t recognize. She wonders how many new clothing articles were left waiting to be worn in her absence—she wonders how many resources she wasted by leading everyone in a wild chase to find her. She thinks of the children in the orphanage and how they’re struggling to figure out resources beyond the bare minimum for the kids.

 

She hopes that they’re safe, along with her friends.

 

“I’ll fetch you some tea,” Judith informs her, pausing to point at the gown. “Get dressed. You’ll catch a cold standing there sopping wet all evening.”

 

The door shuts, followed by the sound of the lock turning in the door, reiterating her father’s words to her earlier. _You may be my daughter, but you will never run from me again._

 

She bites on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood as she takes a shaky breath, struggling to hold in fresh tears. She lets her towel drop to the ground, hastily pulling on the nightgown over herself, unable to appreciate the soft material as it hangs loosely over her figure. She goes to her vanity against the far wall to look over herself, surveying each bruise and cut; there’s old and new bruises with varying shades of red, purple, and yellow littering her arms and legs. She hardly glances at the marks on her neck, willing herself to ignore the reminder of the fight from the other day. What catches her eye is a small mark above her right breast, a deep purple-red mark about the size of a coin, but there nonetheless.

 

The love bite from Levi makes her heart begin to pound against her ribs, her knees going weak. She touches it with her fingertips, rubbing it as if to ensure it won’t come off like grime.

 

She yearns for his touch more than she’s longed for anything in her life.

 

“Historia,” Judith calls as she knocks on the bedroom door. “May I enter?”

 

“Y-yes.” She flinches at the sound, feeling like she was caught doing something wrong. Judith shows no sign of judgement as she enters carrying a tray of tea, with a pot and single cup ready for serving. Historia hesitates as she gets in bed, sliding underneath the covers slowly. Judith sets the tray down on one of the end tables beside Historia’s bed, pouring a cup before presenting it to the princess, who accepts it silently. The smell of lavender wafts in her nostrils, ebbing away at the tension coiled tightly within her. “Thank you.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me, Historia,” Judith corrects her. “It is my duty to serve the Princess.”

 

“But I want to thank you,” Historia affirms. “You’ve been very kind.” Judith opens her mouth only to be cut off by Historia continuing. “I know you’ll say it’s your duty, but it has made a great ordeal a lot…ah, easier, for me. It means more than I can say,” she rambles.

 

Judith smiles sadly before nodding in understanding. “You’re very welcome then.”

 

Historia sips on the tea, sighing as the warmth spreads in her chest. She blinks slowly, the weight of exhaustion heavy on her shoulders. Judith taps Historia’s leg over the covers endearingly. “I’ll leave the pot for now. You seem like you could use a moment alone—and perhaps some sleep soon.” She stands, making her way to the door. “I’ll be back shortly to check on you.”

 

When the door shuts behind her, Historia is all alone with her thoughts.

 

She finishes her tea before nodding off to sleep. She dreams of Levi, limbs tangled in a bed and wrapped up in sheets with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter won't be another month away, that i _can_ assure you. pinky promise!
> 
> much love


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